Sill 


IfMilHs 


REV.  JOHN  L.  DYER. 


SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 


AN  AUTOBIOGRAPHY 


REV.  JOHN  L^YER, 

FAMILIARLY  KNOWN  AS  "  FATHER  DYER," 


Colorado  Copf^r^pce,  Mebl^odisb  Kpiscopal  Cljurcl). 


ILLUSTRATED  FROM  DRAWINGS  BY  MRS.  HELEN  H.  CHAIN, 
DENVER,  COLORADO. 


CINCINNATI: 

PUBLISHED  FOR  THE  AUTHOR  BY  CRANSTON  &  STOWE. 
1890. 


Copyright  by 

JO  H  N    L.    DYER, 

1889. 


. 
Bancroft  Library 


WORDS  INTRODUCTORY. 


IT  were  easy  to  have  edited  Father  Dyer  out 
of  his  book.  But,  dressed  in  my  diction,  he 
would  have  been  a  sorry  masquerader.  The  sur- 
vivors of  The  Fountain  and  Buckskin  Joe  would 
not  have  recognized  him.  Trie  placers  of  Fair 
Play  and  the  diggings  of  Breckenridge  would  have 
turned  their  backs  upon  him.  All  would  have 
been  disappointed  to  find  the  conventional  minis- 
ter where  they  had  the  right  to  expect  the  unique 
individuality  of  the  frontiersman.  "Next  to  the 
biography  of  Peter  Cartwright,"  says  Prof.  S.  W. 
Williams,  who  has  edited  more  manuscript  than 
any  man  in  our  Church,  "this  is  the  most  in- 
teresting in  the  annals  of  American  Methodism.'* 
I  trust  that  Father  Dyer's  hosts  of  friends  will 
enjoy  the  story  even  as  they  love  the  story-teller, 
and  see  and  hear  him  in  every  chapter;  that  his 
worthy  successor  in  the  Colorado  Conference  will 
catch  the  fervor  of  his  dauntless  spirit;  and  that 
his  artless  narrative  will  contribute  somewhat  of 
value  to  the  History  of  Rocky  Mountain  Meth- 
odism. 


4  WORDS  INTRODUCTORY. 

I  have  gone  over  these  pages  alone,  and  with 
my  venerable  and  beloved  brother,  until  their 
personality  has  possessed  me,  and  I  and  the  Snow- 
shoe  Itinerant  seem  to  be  one.  But  now  his  snow- 
shoes  are  to  bear  him  in  one  direction,  and  I  am 
summoned  in  another.  As  for  him,  I  have  no 
fears.  The  same  good  Providence  which  has 
guided  him  safely  from  Santa  Fe  to  North  Park, 
and  through  the  gulches  of  the  Sangre  de  Christo 
and  the  passes  of  the  Continental  Divide,  will 
gently  lead  him  u  Over  the  Range  "  at  last,  on 
whose  yonder  sunny  slopes  he  will  meet  the  com- 
panions and  friends  of  his  youth,  that  son  whose 
untimely  taking  off  dashed  his  cup  with  bitter  sor- 
row, and,  best  of  all,  the  Divine  One,  on  whose  altar 
he  has  laid  an  unselfish  and  noble  life.  As  for  me, 
I  doubt  not  that  the  editorial  pen  will  write  in  more 
heroic  character  for  the  example  of  Father  Dyer, 
the  Cartwright  of  the  Rockies,. the  pioneer  hero 
of  Frontier  Methodism,  with  whom  I  hope  by  and 
by  to  sit  down  in  our  Father's  house  in  heaven. 

DAVID  H.  MOORE. 
EDITORIAI,  ROOMS, 
WESTERN  CHRISTIAN  ADVOCATE, 
December,  1889. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Ancestry  and  Early  Youth — How  his  Great  Grandfather  got 
to  America — Life  in  Virginia  and  Kentucky — Blazing  the 
Way  into  Ohio — The  Darbys-Dyer's  Mills — The  Fosters — 
Freeborn  Garrettson — An  Evil  Prophecy — "  Tom  "  Corwin 
as  a  Temperance  Lecturer — An  Old-fashioned  Family  Altar — 
Apprenticed  to  the  Plow — Pioneer  Preachers — Two  Notable 
Camp-meetings — Bascoin's  Manly  Beauty — Finley  and  his 
Indian  Converts— " The  Jerks" — Youthful  Sports — 'Coon- 
skin  Currency — A  Normal  Case  of  Buck  Fever — The  Win- 
ter School — Barring  out  the  Teacher — Glade  Run  versus 
Big  Darby — Mathematics  in  the  Big  Woods — The  First 
Sunday-school  in  Georgeville, PAGE  n 

CHAPTER  II. 

Unites  With  the  Church — Dread  of  the  Class-meeting — Con- 
version— "  Innocent  Amusements  " — The  Family  removes 
to  Illinois — The  Wilderness— ^Hunting  a  Home— Caught  in 
a  January  Storm — Primitive  Hospitality — His  Father  in 
Peril  — Black  Hawk  War— Volunteers—  "Westerner's  De- 
feat"— Ross's  Escapade— End  of  the  War — The  Crash  of 
1837 — The  Church  survives— Full  Salvation  —  Praying  for 
Death — Made  a  Class-leader — Brings  up  the  Preacher's 
Salary — Marries  Harriet  Foster — Death  of  his  Wife,  1847 — A 
Sad  Mistake — Divorce — Lead-mining  in  Wisconsin — Made  a 
Local  Preacher — "Brushed"  at  the  Old  Stone  Church — An 
Unexpected  Revival  — Jonah  —  "  Hoist "  —  Surrenders  —  A 
Supply  on  Wingville  and  Lancaster  Circuit — A  Rowdy  at  the 
Mourners'  Bench— Admitted  to  Wisconsin  Conference  and 
sent  to  Elk  Grove  Circuit, 25 

CHAPTER  III. 

Admitted  to  Conference — Tragic  Death  of  the  Divorced  Wife — 
Salary  of  $100 — Fond  du  Lac  Conference — Franklin  and 


6  CONTENTS. 

Wingville — Lincoln  the  Shouter — A  Singular  Dream — Di- 
viding the  House— "This  Place  belongs  to  the  Old  Lady" — 
Chauncey  Hobart's  Ague  Fit — Fayette  Circuit — Cholera — An 
Awful  Experience — A  Successful  Thief— Cold  Comfort— A 
Hospitable  Infidel — A  String  of  Fish — "  I  have  made  up  my 
Mind  to  go" — Prayer  Answered — A  Warning — A  Fight  at 
Camp-meeting — Suckers — The  Beautiful  Country,  PAGE  48 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Richland  Mission,  Minnesota — Marriage  of  Rachel — On  the 
Road — Bethel — Tragic  Death  of  Robert — Revivals  Every- 
where— Trip  to  Wisconsin — The  Second  Camp-meeting  in 
Minnesota— The  Crash  of  1857— The  First  Conference  held 
in  Minnesota — Caledonia  or  Preston  Circuit— Surety — 
Pastoral  Visiting — "  How  long  does  Thee  intend  to  hold  these 
Meetings?" — Running  from  a  Shouting  Wife — A  Pioneer 
Temperance  Crusader — "  The  Most  Industrious  Little  Mill 
I  ever  saw  "— "  The  Fifth  Time,  it  went  off  "—Confer- 
ence at  St.  Paul — Anecdote  of  Bishop  Morris — Austin 
Circuit, 69 

CHAPTER  V. 

En  route  to  Austin— Swimming  Root  River — A  Bare-footed 
Sermon— A  Mischievous  Immersion — Stuck  in  a  Slough — 
Moses  Mapes — The  Black  "Horse  and  his  Rider— A  Revival 
Cloud-burst — Specimen  Converts — A  Liberal  Baptist — The 
State-line  Broken — The  Three-cent  Seeker — A  Providential 
Haul— Conference  at  St.  Anthony — Crossing  the  Zumbro 
on  a  Raft — Camp-meeting  on  the  Chippewa — Prescott  Con- 
ference—  Chauncey  Hobart  —  Rice  Lake  and  Chippewa 
Squaws — Indian  Bargain — Menominee  Mills— Captain  Wil- 
son—Whisky—An Irate  Father —North-west  Wisconsin  Con- 
ference— Security  Debts, 87 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Off  for  Pike's  Peak  —  Retrospect  —  Great  Loss  —  Ox-train— 
Preaching  en  route — Dog  Soup— Ox-gad  versus  Rifle—"  Cut 
Off,"  or  "Cut  On?"— A  Mad  Boss— The  Last  Night  on  the 
Plains — Denver  in  1861 — Byers's  Printing-office— Patriotic 
Sermon — Off  for  Buckskin  Joe — Dyer's  "  Short  Account " — 
A  Year  of  Strange  Adventures 117 


CONTENTS.  7 

CHAPTER.  VII. 

On  Foot  to  Denver — Colonel  Chivington — Anecdote  of  Bige- 
low — On  the  Blue  —  Bachelor's  Hall — Turn  about  with 
Gamblers — Deputy  Assessor — Snow-shoe  Accident — "Not 
Quite  Handsome  Enough  for  me  to  dance  with" — "You 
can  stand  that  or  make  a  Temperance  Speech,"  .  PAGE  138 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Winter  Exodus— The  Pioneer  Theater — Revival  at  Gold  Run — 
No  longer  a  "Supply" — Up  the  Blue  on  Snow-shoes — 
Origin  of  the  Names  Tarryall,  Buckskin  Joe,  Fair  Play, 
Mosquito,  et  al. — The  Espinosas  Raid — A  Run  for  Life — 
Baxter  Hung — Last  of  the  Espinosas — Tom  Tobin  the 
Avenger, 148 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Traveling  the  Circuit  During  the  Raid — A  Bad  Scare — A 
"  Fearful  Porcupine  " — Bishop  Ames  organizes  the  Colorado 
Conference— Typical  Instances  of  Rough  Characters  in 
Rough  Camps— Practical  Effects  of  Dancing-schools  .  .  156 

CHAPTER  X. 

Organization  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  Conference,  1863 — Pre- 
siding Elders  Willard  and  Slaughter— Sent  to  South  Park 
Circuit — Flour  $15  per  Sack — Funds  exhausted— Carrying 
the  Mail  on  Snow-shoes— Laden  with  Gold — Traveling 
Companions  —  Life-saving  —  An  Unwilling  Mail-carrier — 
Lonely  Trips — A  Perilous  Leap  and  a  Lightning  Slide — A 
Pack-cow  on  the  War-path, 162 

CHAPTER  XI 

Agent  for  the  Rocky  Mountain  News — The  Express  robbed 
by  "  Secesh  " — A  Rebel  Rising  invited,  but  not  accepted — 
The  Chase— Experience  as  a  Volunteer — The  Robbers  Cap- 
tured and  "  Lost" — Corn  13  Cents  a  Pound — Indian  Scare — 
Building  a  Fort  in  Denver— Joking  with  "Old  Chiv." — 
Sand  Creek  from  a  Colorado  Stand-point — The  Snow-shoe 
Preacher  a  Bishop  pro  tern. — Chivington's  Great  Speech — 
A  Year  with  Five  Quarters — A  Cattle  Baron — The  Southern 
District — Prospecting  New  Mexico  for  Methodism — Trini- 


8  CONTENTS. 

dad — Crossing  the  Rattqpn— An  Unexpected  Wedding — 
Maxwell's  Grant— The  First  Protestant  Minister  in  New 
Mexico — Judge  Watts  —  Birthplace  of  Montezuma — The 
Pueblos— The  Penitentes— Mexican  Hospitality— Supersti- 
tion,   PAGE  178 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Conference  of  1865— Bishop  Kingsley  —  Conference  Photo- 
graphed— Presiding  Elder  again — Grasshopers — Sad  Con- 
tribution to  the  Union — A  Fruitless  Quest — A  Run  to  New 
York  and  Boston —Robbed— Enough  of  the  East— $125 
Stage-fare  Atchison  to  Denver — At  Work  again -Modern 
Revivals  —  Conference  at  Empire,  1866— Bishop  Baker — 
Acting  Bishop— Bishop  Baker  rests  at  Mr.  Burton's — South 
Park  District— Fort  Garland— Tom  Tobin— Father  Mach- 
boeuf — Saguache — The  First  Shout  in  the  San  Luis  Valley — 
Old  Chief  San  Juan  as  a  Comforter — Poncha  Pass  and  Cal- 
ifornia Gulch— Unhorsed  in  the  Arkansas — A  Bare-foot  Ser- 
mon— Wilderness  Distances — Alma  Camp-meeting — "  Stack 
your  Chips  and  give  us  a  Hearing!"  —  On  Snow-shoes 
again — In  Peril — Delivered — Sam  Hartzell's — Uncle  Jesse 
Frazer's — Hard  Times  for  Preachers — All  Night  Ride  with 
Colored  Soldiers — Little  Denver — "  Be  it  ever  so  Humble, 
there's  no  Place  like  Home," 196 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Winter  of  1866-67— The  Veiled  Prophet—"  Did  You  bring  me 
any  Tobacco?"  —  Salt-works— Among  the  Red-skins— Cy 
Hall  as  Stage-driver — Lost  in  the  Snow— Sledding  in  May — 
Bishop  Ames  and  the  Conference  of  1867 — Early  Settlers  of 
Colorado  City  —  Camp-meeting  Conference  —  Delegate  to 
General  Conference — W.  F.  Warren's  Good  Record — Bishop 
Ames's  Travels  over  Part  of  my  District — Incidents  of  the 
Excursion — Ministerial  Courtesy — Off  to  General  Confer- 
ence— Shoveling  Out — Taken  for  my  Father, 216 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

General  Conference  —  Committee  Work— The  Indian  Ques- 
tion— Battle  of  the  Giants — Boundaries — Colorado  Confer- 
ence—Bishop Simpson 231 


CONTENTS.  9 

CHAPTER  XV. 

New  Mexico  District— Kit  Carson— Mad  Indians — Illustrative 
Episode — Sheep  Cheese— An  Abiding  Wonder! — Shutting 
the  Mouths  of  Owls  and  Wolves— The  First  Class-leader 
in  New  Mexico — Rev.  Thomas  Harwood — Whole-souled 
Miners — Lone  Rocks — In  a  Texas  Corner —Wine-press — 
Fort  Selden — Indians!— Fort  Craig — A  Strange  Presenti- 
ment— Mrs.  Harwood — Fort  Defiance,  Arizona — Rev.  Mr. 
Roberts,  Presbyterian  Board — The  Navajoe  Thieves — Fort 
Sianton— An  Improvised  Warming-pan — A  Timely  Wed- 
ding—Dangers— Boska  Grande— Fort  Sumner — Fort  Bas- 
com— Fort  Union — Ten  Thousand  Miles  on  Horseback  in 
Two  Years — A  Bit  of  New  Mexico  History,  .  .  .  PAGE  240 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Conference  at  Central  City — Bishop  Kingsley — Conference  of 
1870 — Pueblo  —  Bishop  Ames — Divide  Circuit— Married  to 
Mrs.  Lucinda  P.  Rankin — Lynch  Law — Elbert  County — 
Benediction  and  Dancing— Wm.  Bonafield's  Close  Call — 
Was  it  an  Assassin?  —  Miles  Madden  shot — Father's 
Death — Evans,  Platteville,  and  Fort  Lupton — A  Severe  Ac- 
cident— Geo.  H.  Adams— Sister  Williams — Then  and  Now — 
A  Pleasant  Visit — A  Difficult  Backout — Conference,  1873 — 
Greeley  and  Bishop  Andrews, 260 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  Three  Weeks'  Jaunt— Smashed  up— Service  at  Father's 
Grave — Wash-burn  Creek — Dyer's  Mine — Patient  Burro — 
Brave  Maiden— Sunday  at  Alma— Back  to  Erie— 1874  Con- 
ference— Colorado  Springs — Bishop  Bowman — Monument 
Circuit — Bowling  Alley  Parsonage — Building — 1875  Confer- 
ence—Central City— Bishop  Haven— A  Joyous  Fourth- 
Assassination  of  my  Son  Elias— -Cast  down,  but  not  for- 
saken,   277 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Lake  County— Judge  of  Probate— Early  Strife— The  Case  of 
Elijah  Gibbs — A  Mob— "Come  out  and  be  hung  like  a 
Man"— The  Attack— The  Successful  Defense— Gibbs's  Flight 
and  Pursuit — The  Committee  of  Safety — Elias  Dyer  Judge — 


io  CONTENTS. 

Offends  the  Committee— In  Peril— Hardin  murdered— From 
Bad  to  Worse— Trials  for  Law— Brave  Andy  Wilson— The 
Arrows  of  the  Lord— The  Judge  murdered PAGE  285 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Report  of  the  Tragedy  in  the  Rocky  Mountain  News— A.  View 
from  the  Inside— Letter  from  J.  McPherson— Correspond- 
ence of  the  Fair  Play  Sentinel— Item  from  the  News— Ex- 
tract from  Country  Paper  — Letter  from  Judge  Dyer— 
Another  Letter  from  the  Judge  — Letter  of  James  H. 
Johnston— Last  Letter  of  Judge  Dyer— Dispatch  in  the 
Rocky  Mountain  News— Extract  from  a  Country  Paper— 
Another  Letter  from  McPherson— He  is  appointed  Pro- 
bate Judge— My  Son's  Estate  administered  upon— Sale  of 
Dyer's  Mine — Reflections, 297 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Conference  of  1876— Boulder  and  Bishop  Harris — Fair  Play  and 
Alma — A.  J.  Smith — Governor  Bross's  Doxology — Dump- 
house  of  the  Dolly  Varden — The  First  Preaching  on  Mount 
Lincoln — A  Marriage  in  High  Life — Supernumerary  in 
1877— Conference  1879,  Bishop  Merrill — 1880,  Bishop  War- 
ren—  Ignorance  or  Worse  ?  — Indian  Scare  —  A  Moral 
pointed  —  Father  Meeker — Smut — Success — Breckenridge — 
First  Church  on  the  Western  Slope  in  Colorado  Confer- 
ence— Lessons  in  Prospecting — The  Warrior's  Mark — How 
Stockholders  are  swindled,  .  • 322 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Sister  Van  Cott  at  Breckenridge— Conference  at  Leadville — 
The  First  "  Fifth  Collection  "  all  mine  and  for  the  Uni- 
versity of  Denver — Rauchero — Wife's  Tragic  Flight — Cloud- 
burst— To  Denver — Chaplain  of  the  State  Senate — Brecken- 
ridge again — "Hair-hung  and  Breath-shaken"  —  Religious 
Beginnings  of  Denver, 341 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

Gold  and  Silver  Mining  in  Colorado— Smelters — N.  P.  Hill — 
Governor  Gilpin,  Crank  or  Prophet ;  Which? — Coal — Iron — 
Hot  Springs — Climbing  for  Life — The  News — Governor 
Evans,  • 35° 


SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 


CHAPTER  I, 

YOUTHFUL  YEARS. 

¥Y  friends,  both  in  and  out  of  the  ministry, 
have  for  years  urged  me  to  write  the  story 
of  my  life.  At  last  I  have  come  to  think  that  I 
ought  to  do  so.  I  am  assured  that  but  a  few  days 
remain  to  me,  and  that  what  I  do  must  be  quickly 
done.  God  has  wondrously  led  me,  and  what  I 
write  I  consecrate  to  him.  May  his  Spirit  guide 
my  pen ! 

The  name  I  bear — so  far  as  our  records  go — 
begins  with  my  great-grandfather  stepping  on  to 
an  English  ship,  when  a  lad,  without  leave  of  the 
officers,  bound  for  America.  With  others,  he  was 
sold  out  for  a  specified  time  to  pay  his  passage. 
But  he  fell  into  good  hands,  and  his  apprentice- 
ship was  worth  all  it  cost.  He  became  the  owner 
of  a  desirable  tract  of  land  in  Pendleton  County, 
Virginia;  married;  was  blessed  with  two  sons— 
Roger  and  John — and  a  daughter.  His  eventful 
career  was  cut  off  by  the  Indians  before  he  reached 
middle  life.  His  widow  married  a  Mr.  Cravens, 
and  bore  him  several  children.  One  of  these  was 

the  Rev.   Wm.   Cravens — better  known   as   Billy 

ii 


12  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

Cravens — a  Methodist,  fearless  and  determined, 
dealing  still -houses  and  dram  -  drinking  fearful 
blows,  and  certainly  the  boldest  anti-slavery  man 
of  his  age. 

John,  the  second  of  the  two  boys  named  be- 
fore, was  my  grandfather.  He  married  Miss  Jane 
Morrel.  The  third  of  their  nine  children,  Samuel 
Dyer,  my  father,  was  born  in  Pendleton  County, 
Virginia,  March  23,  1786.  In  the  spring  of  1788, 
the  family  moved  into  Kentucky,  and  settled 
within  six  miles  of  Lexington.  Ten  years  later,  in 
the  spring  of  1798,  they  moved  to  Ohio,  not  yet  a 
State,  and  made  their  home  at  Station  Prairie — 
a  stronghold  against  Indians — below  Chillicothe. 
In  1800  my  grandfather  moved  to  the  junction  of 
the  Darbys,  in  Franklin  County,  where  he  built  the 
first  grist-mill  in  Central  Ohio,  on  a  tract  of  land 
containing  six  hundred  acres.  It  is  still  known  as 
Dyer's  Mills. 

Grandfather  was  quite  a  character  in  his  way. 
He  had  a  saw-mill,  also,  and  when  a  fine  cherry- 
log  was  brought  one  day,  he  selected  enough  of 
the  planks  into  which  it  was  sawed  to  make  him 
a  coffin,  stored  them  in  the  loft  of  his  log  house, 
and  when  he  died  they  were  used  as  he  intended. 
He  was  not  a  Church  member,  but  was  anxious  to 
hear  the  Word.  Learning  of  a  young  Methodist 
preacher  who  had  come  within  eight  miles,  he  sent 
an  invitation  for  him  to  preach  at  his  house,  which 
was  declined  because  grandfather  was  not  a  mem- 
ber! Nothing  discouraged,  he  sent  for  Lewis 
Foster,  who  came  gladly,  and  who,  when  grand- 


YOUTHFUL  YEARS.  13 

father  died — January  12,  1812 — preached  his  fu- 
neral sermon.  My  grandmother  died  in  great  peace 
a  few  years  later.  She  was  a  Methodist  of  the  old 
stamp.  Her  memory  is  precious. 

As  my  mother  was  a  daughter  of  this  Lewis 
Foster,  it  will  not  be  out  of  place  to  present  him 
to  my  readers.  He  was  a  native  of  Baltimore 
County,  Maryland;  married  Miss  Ann  Davis,  and 
spent  a  long  and  happy  life  with  her  and  the  large 
family  which  blessed  their  union.  He  was  con- 
verted in  early  life,  and  joined  the  Church  under 
Freeborn  Garrettson.  I  heard  him  state  that  he 
thought  Garrettson  was  the  best-looking  man  he 
ever  saw,  when  he  would  ride  up  to  his  father's  to 
preach,  and  say:  "Boys,  feed  my  horse  well,  for  he 
has  lost  two  holes  in  girth  since  I  was  here  last." 

His  father  was  a  local  preacher  before  him,  and 
he  was  but  twenty-two  when  he  began  proclaiming 
the  gospel.  In  1800  he  moved  his  family  from 
Pennsylvania  to  Ohio,  blazing  their  way,  his  wagon 
being  the  first  that  ever  made  the  journey  from 
Wheeling  to  Chillicothe.  He  made  his  settlement 
in  Madison  County,  where  West  Jefferson  now 
stands,  and  labored  for  the  Church  as  a  respected 
and  successful  local  preacher. 

On  one  occasion,  probably  1820,  when  I  was  a 
small  boy,  father  took  the  family  to  a  camp-meet- 
ing, where  Russel  Bigelow  presided  and  preached 
one  of  his  most  wonderful  sermons.  Strange  to 
say,  my  grandfather  was  called  on  to  follow  him, 
although  there  were  eminent  ministers  present. 
After  the  preliminaries  were  closed,  he  rose  trem- 


14  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

blingly  and  said:  "I  can  see  but  one  reason  why  I 
have  been  called  on  to  speak  at  this  hour,  and  that 
is,  if  I  fail  I  have  but  little  to  lose."  It  was  later 
in  life  I  learned  the  full  force  of  that  expression. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that,  before  he  was  through,  the 
people  were  carried  away  above  preacher  and  an- 
gels to  Christ  Jesus.  Such  a  rising  and  shouting 
for  joy  and  crying  for  mercy  I  have  seldom  if  ever 
witnessed  from  that  day  to  this.  I  dwell  on  these 
details  with  fondness,  for  I  am-  proud  of  my  Meth- 
odist lineage,  and  of  the  fact  that  I  can  trace  the 
ministry  in  our  family  back  through  grandfather  to 
great-grandfather  Foster. 

In  October,  1810,  at  the  Foster  homestead  in 
Madison  County,  my  father,  Samuel  Dyer,  and  Cas- 
sandra Foster  were  married.  I  was  born  March 
1 6,  1812,  at  the  junction  of  the  Darbys,  near  the 
old  mill,  and  named  John  Lewis,  for  my  two  grand- 
fathers. My  father  was  justice  of  the  peace,  and 
among  the  men  that  frequented  his  primitive  court 
was  a  Mr.  T.,  who  was  generally  half-drunk,  and 
would  persist,  when  in  that  condition,  in  shaking 
hands  with  me,  although  I  was  scarcely  more  than 
four  years  old.  On  one  occasion,  seeing  him  com- 
ing, I  hid  behind  mother  as  she  sat  spinning  flax 
on  her  little  wheel,  and  said:  "He  is  drunk,  and  I 
will  not  shake  hands."  But  he  saw  me,  and  when 
I  drew  back,  he  said:  "What  Is  the  matter  with 
that  child?"  She  told  him  what  I  had  said.  That 
raised  his  Irish.  He  stamped  his  foot,  and  said: 
"  That  child  will  make  a  drunkard  as  sure  as  he 
lives.  I  have  never  seen  a  child  that  hated  a 


YOUTHFUL  YEARS.  15 

drunken  man  but  would  surely  be  a  drunkard." 
I  was  badly  frightened,  but  never  forgot  his  angry 
prophecy.  I  was  born  with  a  love  for  whisky.  I 
can  not  remember  when,  at  the  smell  of  it,  water 
did  not  gather  on  my  tongue.  But  whenever  I 
tasted  it,  the  thought  of  old  T.  came  into  my  mind 
and  terrified  me. 

Not  long  after,  another  event  occurred  which 
helped  to  save  me.  Father  was  laid  up  with 
rheumatism,  and  the  young  people  of  the  neigh- 
borhood gathered  to  pull  his  flax.  As  the  custom 
was,  he  provided  a  quart  of  whisky  and  a  bucket 
of  water,  which  I  sat  in  the  shade  to  dispense. 
Never  did  anything  look  so  tempting.  I  thought 
I  could  mix  the  whisky  with  water,  so  that  it 
would  not  strangle  me,  and  drink  all  I  wanted  and 
nobody  know  anything  about  it.  So  mixing  up  a 
half  tin-cup  full,  I  drank  until  it  did  not  taste  good 
any  more.  The  next  thing  I  remember  was  look- 
ing toward  the  house  over  a  small  field  of  wheat. 
The  stalks  seemed  to  be  about  seven  feet  high, 
and  the  heads  nearly  a  foot  long,  and  they  all  ap- 
peared to  be  pitching  over  each  other.  So  I  thought 
it  impossible  to  get  home,  lay  down,  and  was  car- 
ried to  the  house.  That  was  my  first  and  last 
"drunk."  When  I  had  grown  to  young  manhood, 
I  heard  "Tom"  Corwin  deliver  a  temperance  lec- 
ture. His  experience  and  arguments  captivated 
me,  and  I  signed  the  pledge,  and  ever  since  have 
practiced  temperance  closely  and  advocated  it  ear- 
nestly. Old  T.'s  prediction,  thanks  be  unto  God, 
was  never  fulfilled. 


1 6  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

I  could  not  have  been  more  than  six  years  old 
when  I  had  a  great  trial.  My  father  made  a  pro- 
fession of  religion.  He  asked  the  blessing  before 
eating,  which  seemed  to  me  a  great  waste  of  time. 
He  had  family  prayers  night  and  morning.  But 
a  few  days  passed  before  some  friends  came  to  see 
us.  All  the  afternoon  I  thought,  Father  can 't 
pray  like  a  preacher,  and,  if  I  were  in  his  place, 
I  would  put  off  praying  till  they  leave.  But  he 
never  quit  while  he  lived.  Mother's  heart  was 
full  of  joy.  She  had  been  a  professor  since  four- 
teen years  of  age.  Now  her  husband  walked  with 
her,  and  all  was  gladness.  Memory  lingers  on  our 
old-fashioned  family  altar.  My  mother  had  never 
learned  music,  but  she  knew  the  tunes  to  the  good 
old  hymns.  How  appropriate  her  songs  were ! 
In  the  morning, — 

"Awake  my  soul,  to  meet  the  day; 
Unfold  thy  drowsy  eves." 

Or- 

"Once  more,  my  soul,  the  rising  day 
Salutes  thy  waking  eyes." 

Her  sweet  voice  put  life  into  the  hymn ;  and 
the  prayer  that  followed  was  surely  heard  in 
heaven. 

As  we  had  a  farm,  the  clearing  was  hard,  and 
I  was  kept  close  at  work  early  and  late.  Almost 
as  soon  as  I  could  reach  the  plow-handles,  I  was 
set  to  plowing.  If  I  had  not  gone  at  least  two 
rounds  across  a  ten-acre  field  before  sunrise,  it  was 
thought  a  late  start. 

This  was  before  we  ever  heard  of  a  Sunday- 


YOUTHFUL  YEARS.  17 

school,  say  in  1820.  At  that  early  day  the  Meth- 
odist preachers  were  almost  our  only  expounders 
of  God's  Word.  They  faithfully  followed  the 
settlers,  thirsting  for  the  salvation  of  souls,  almost 
regardless  of  pay.  And  what  men  of  God  they 
were ! — John  Collins,  John  Sale,  Robert  W.  Finley, 
James  B.  Finley,  his  son,  and  many  others  of  that 
noble  stamp.  Known  almost  as  far  as  they  could 
be  seen  by  their  saddle-bags,  in  which  most  of 
their  valuables  were  carried,  they  traveled  large 
circuits,  often  swimming  swollen  streams  and  en- 
during all  manner  of  hardships,  preaching  almost 
daily,  receiving  only  food  and  clothing.  They 
were  not  hirelings,  but  shepherds  caring  for  the 
sheep,  and  looking  for  their  reward  at  the  great 
day.  I  hope  to  see  them  crowned  after  the  resur- 
rection with  crowns  made  by  God's  own  hands. 

In  those  times,  the  quarterly  and  two-days' 
meetings  were  institutions  of  Methodism.  The 
fourth  quarterly  meeting  was  a  camp-meeting. 
They  were  looked  forward  to  with  prayer  as  sea- 
sons of  revival.  I  shall  never  forget  my  first 
camp-meeting!  Henry  B.  Bascom  was  there  in 
his  youthful  vigor.  He  was  called  "the  Kentucky 
preacher;"  was  supposed  to  be  the  finest-looking 
man  then  living;  was  surpassingly  eloquent,  and 
fully  baptized  with  the  Holy  Ghost.  He  preached 
the  ii  o'clock  sermon.  The  people  for  miles 
around  were  present,  and  made  an  immense  crowd. 
I  remember  the  man  and  the  scenes  better  than  the 
discourse.  There  was  a  death-like  stillness,  while 
both  preacher  and  Spirit  seemed  to  work  upon  the 


i8  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

hearers.  At  the  close,  there  was  a  call  for  seekers. 
The  altar  was  filled  with  penitents,  and  others  in 
groups  all  through  the  congregation  were  crying 
aloud  for  mercy.  An  old  man  and  his  wife  find 
two  sons  and  a  daughter  at  the  altar,  crying, 
"Save,  Lord;  I  perish!"  The  sons  had  perse- 
cuted the  father,  who  now  kneels  between  them, 
exhorting  them  with  a  voice  almost  like  thunder 
to  surrender  all  to  God ;  the  mother  meanwhile 
equally  engaged  for  her  daughter.  After  a  hard 
struggle,  the  blessing  comes,  and  the  prayers  of 
children  and  parents  are  turned  into  praises.  Add 
to  this  scene  scores  of  similar  ones,  and  the  reader 
may  have  some  idea  of  a  camp-meeting  more  than 
sixty  years  ago. 

Stimulated  by  the  example  of  the  Methodists, 
the  Presbyterians,  I  believe,  held  series  of  services 
which  they  called  "  protracted  meetings."  Our 
protracted  meetings  were  called  u  revivals."  It  is 
a  blessed  fact  that  our  meetings  were  never  "pro- 
tracted "  without  becoming  revivals.  The  coming 
of  the  presiding  elder  and  the  quarterly  meeting 
was  the  sign  of  Pentecost.  What  wonder  that 
this  announcement  came  into  general  use:  "We 
will  begin  a  revival  at  this  place  at  the  next  reg- 
ular appointment?" 

The  presence  of  converted  Indians  fixed  another 
camp-meeting  indelibly  in  my  mind.  It  was  held 
on  Big  Darby  Creek  bottom,  in  the  Chenoweth 
settlement.  James  B.  Finley  was  presiding  elder, 
and  was  in  charge  of  the  Indian  Mission  at  San- 
dusky.  The  announcement  that  he  would  bring 


YOUTHFUL  YEARS.  19 

seven  or  eight  converted  Indians,  called  together 
an  unusually  large  number.  The  first  I  saw  of 
the  Indians  was  when  the  horn  sounded  for  morn- 
ing service.  The  eight  came  out,  clothed  as  white 
men,  their  long  black  hair  combed  down  upon 
their  shoulders ;  and,  taking  their  seats,  began, 
without  book  or  notes,  to  sing,  in  their  own  tongue : 

"  O  how  happy  are  they,  who  their  Savior  obey, 
And  have  laid  up  their  treasure  above!" 

The  long  hymn  was  too  short ;  for  it  was  a 
feast  to  hear  them  sing.  Those  Indians  had  given 
up  that  part  of  the  country,  and  now  they  were 
back,  singing,  with  the  spirit  and  the  understand- 
ing, those  hymns  that  wrere  afterwards  sung  in 
every  settlement,  and  called  "the  Indians'  tunes." 

One  of  the  eight  was  a  preacher ;  and  was 
called  up  into  the  stand  to  preach.  A  Negro  was 
interpreter.  I  do  not  remember  much  of  the  ser- 
mon. When  interpreted,  it  seemed  to  come  second- 
handed.  Since  then,  several  times  I  have  tried  to 
have  my  own  talks  interpreted  to  Mexicans,  but 
the  result  was  never  satisfactory.  The  fire  and 
power  of  the  original,  such  as  it  was,  never  ap- 
peared in  the  translation. 

This  camp-meeting  was  a  season  never  to  be 
forgotten.  Finley,  just  in  his  physical  and  spiritual 
prime,  preached  at  n  o'clock,  and  all  through  the 
day  he  seemed  to  move  heaven  and  earth.  The 
Holy  Spirit  was  poured  out,  and  scores  were  cry- 
ing for  mercy,  and  as  many  others  shouting  the 
praise  of  God.  Some  were  stricken  down  with 


20  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

conviction,  and  lay  like  dead  men,  but  would 
come  to  life  again,  shouting  happy. 

Scenes  like  this  were  common.  The  "jerks," 
a  peculiar  physical  phenomenon  connected  with 
religious  excitement,  had  mostly  ceased.  They 
began  in  Kentucky.  At  Cane  Ridge  Camp-meet- 
ing, held  by  the  Presbyterians  and  Methodists, 
men  fell  by  the  scores.  A  physician  thought  he 
could  raise  them.  He  was  called,  and  with  his 
preparation  of  hartshorn  went  to  work.  But  no 
sooner  had  he  reached  the  fallen  men,  than  he  fell 
himself. 

I  remember  to  have  seen  but  one  case.  It  was 
that  of  a  good  woman — an  own  aunt  of  Hon. 
W.  N.  Byers,  of  Denver — who  was  strangely  exer- 
cised. As  two  women  held  her,  she  jerked  her 
head  so  violently,  that  her  long  hair  became 
loosened  and  snapped  like  whip-crackers.  Some 
called  this  "the  falling  fanaticism;"  but,  with 
others,  I  have  thought  that  the  times  required 
some  strange  thing  to  awaken  the  Church  and 
arouse  the  people,  who  were  just  out  of  Indian 
wars,  almost  without  books  to  read,  sadly  neglectful 
of  the  Bible,  and  forgetful  of  God. 

As  I  stated  before,  we  had  plenty  of  hard  work; 
but  mixed  with  it  were  the  amusements  peculiar 
to  pioneer  life.  Among  these  was  hunting.  The 
forests  abounded  in  raccoons,  wild  turkeys,  and 
deer.  Every  boy  was  familiar  with  the  use  of  the 
rifle — old-fashioned  muzzle-loaders,  powder-horn 
and  charger,  and  patch  and  ball,  and  flint-lock. 

When  acorns  failed,  the  raccoons  ravaged  our 


YOUTHFUL  YEARS.  21 

corn-fields.  That  made  sport  for  us  boys.  It  was 
night-work,  and  all  the  more  interesting  on  that 
account.  My  brother  Robert  and  I  would  take  a 
horse  and  our  'coon-dog,  and  seldom  return  empty- 
handed.  We  used  no  guns ;  but  would  tree  the 
'coon,  climb  after  him,  shake  him  off,  and  leave  the 
dog  to  make  the  finish,  which  was  not  always 
an  easy  task,  as  the  'coon  was  capable  of  making 
an  obstinate  fight.  On  one  occasion,  we  treed  two 
on  the  same  tree.  As  I  climbed  the  tree,  one 
jumped  off,  but  the  dog  chased  him  up  after  me ; 
so  that  I  had  one  above  and  one  below  me.  I 
succeeded  in  shaking  them  both  off,  far  more  easily 
than  I  have  shaken  off  book-agents  since  then, 
and  the  dog  quickly  dispatched  them.  The  same 
night  we  treed  another  on  a  large  honey-locust, 
too  full  of  thorns  to  climb.  But  there  was  a 
hackberry-tree  by  its  side,  by  which  I  climbed 
above  the  worst  of  the  thorns,  and  then  got  over 
on  to  the  locust.  The  coon  was  at  least  sixty 
feet  from  the  ground ;  but  I  followed  him  to  the 
top  and  shook  him  off.  He  proved  to  be  the 
largest  one  we  ever  caught.  Never  did  I  look  to 
the  top  of  that  tree  in  day-time  but  the  blood 
tingled  to  the  end  of  my  toes.  I  could  not  have 
climbed  there  in  daylight.  Money  was  scarce  in 
those  times,  and  'coon-skins  were  almost  currency 
at  twenty-five  cents  apiece.  So  when  we  counted 
seven  as  the  result  of  a  single  hunt,  Robert  and  I 
felt  ''passing  rich." 

Deer-hunting  was  more  to  my  notion,  although 
my  first  experience  was  not  calculated  to  inflate 


22  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

my  pride.  I  espied  a  noble  animal  at  a  short  dis- 
tance, and  was  undiscovered.  Never  had  boy  a 
better  chance ;  but  a  strange  sensation  possessed 
me.  I  was  not  frightened,  but  shook  as  in  ague. 
I  could  not  aim  my  rifle,  or  hold  on  the  broadside 
of  the  deer,  or  even  pull  the  trigger.  The  last  I 
managed  somehow  finally  to  do,  and  at  the  crack 
of  the  gun  the  deer  looked  around  to  see  what 
was  up.  I  fell  to  loading  again,  but  was  unable 
for  my  shaking  to  bring  the  powder-horn  and 
charges  together.  This  brought  me  to  my  senses 
and  settled  my  nerves  ;  but  the  deer  tired  of  wait- 
ing, and  ran  off. 

In  a  little  while  there  was  another  opportunity. 
This  time  it  was  a  large  buck.  The  fever  did  not 
come  back.  My  nerves  were  steady.  I  took  good 
aim  and  fired.  The  buck  fell.  I  ran  with  knife 
in  hand  to  cut  his  throat ;  but  when  within  about 
twenty  feet  of  him,  he  raised  up  his  head,  snuffed, 
and  shook  his  big  horns  defiantly  at  me.  Some 
blood  on  his  back  gave  me  the  idea  that  the  bullet 
had  just  creased  him,  and  that  he  would  be  up 
and  fight  in  a  minute.  Running  to  a  big  tree 
near  by,  I  loaded  again  and  shot  him  in  the  head. 
He  was  a  splendid  fellow,  and  made  me  forget  my 
disgraceful  "  buck-fever." 

My  father  was  fond  of  hunting  the  deer  at 
night  on  the  water.  The  deer  liked  the  moss 
that  grew  in  the  water,  and  was  always  attracted 
by  a  light.  Placing  a  candle  in  the  bow  of  a 
canoe,  and  setting  up  a  screen  behind  it  to  con- 
ceal them,  the  hunters  would  paddle  noiselessly 


YOUTHFUL  YEARS.  23 

down  the  stream  until  they  discovered  their  game. 
This  was  an  Indian  way  of  hunting.  Father  once 
met  Jonathan  Alder  and  his  Indian  wife — known 
in  the  early  history  of  Ohio — in  their  bark  canoe, 
engaged  in  this  sport.  When  I  was  about  four- 
teen, he  took  me  on  such  an  expedition.  We 
chopped  down  an  elm-tree,  made  a  canoe  of  its 
bark,  and,  just  after  dark,  put  out.  Father  sat  in 
front  and  I  behind,  guiding  the  canoe  with  a 
smooth  little  pole,  which  I  dared  not  lift  out  of 
the  water,  lest  the  drops  would  scare  the  game. 
We  pushed  along  that  way  until  we  espied  a  deer. 
It  raised  its  head ;  but  the  light  blinded  it,  and  we 
poled  nearer  until  we  could  see  it  wink,  when 
father  shot  it.  The  night,  the  water,  the  shadows 
of  the  forest,  and  the  breathless  stillness  of  the 
hunt,  gave  a  certain  charm  to  this  mode ;  but 
somehow  it  never  seemed  quite  so  fair  for  the 
deer  as  the  other  way. 

Scarcely  second  to  hunting  was  our  three- 
months'  winter  school.  I  think  we  appreciated  the 
advantages,  and  improved  them.  But  the  three 
months  of  good  times  we  had  together  brightened 
the  whole  year.  Our  games  were  rugged,  and  our 
tricks  not  always  the  gentlest.  One  of  the  latter 
was  to  bar  out  the  teacher  at  Christmas,  and  dic- 
tate terms  of  admission,  which  usually  were  two 
days'  vacation,  time  to  be  made  up  by  him,  and  a 
treat  at  his  expense  of  a  quart  or  two  of  whisky. 
Some  of  the  boys  would  take  too  much ;  so  this 
treat  fell  into  disrepute,  and  apples  were  substituted 
for  it.  Barring  out,  however,  was  continued  until 


24  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

about  1825,  when  some  of  the  parents  who 
opposed  it,  joined  forces  with  the  teachers  from 
New  England,  who  were  indignant  at  what  they 
styled  ua  Western  outrage,"  and  put  an  end  to  the 
practice. 

Spelling-matches  between  neighboring  schools 
excited  great  interest.  The  school  on  Glade  Run 
and  ours  once  met  half-way.  Bach  side  put  up 
its  picked  ten.  We  were  gaining  rapidly,  when 
the  man  who  gave  out  the  words  was  caught 
cheating  us.  This  raised  quite  a  disturbance ;  but 
we  chose  a  man  who  lived  on  their  side,  in  whose 
honesty  we  had  confidence,  and  the  contest  went 
on,  our  side  winning  and  my  brother  Robert  bear- 
ing off  the  honors. 

Our  course  of  study  included  "  the  three  R's  " 
and  orthography.  One  of  my  teachers,  Edwin 
Cone,  I  recall  with  great  pleasure.  He  was  a 
good  man,  and  inspired  his  scholars  to  do  good 
work.  When  about  eighteen,  I  was  sent  thirty 
miles  to  Marysville,  Union  County,  in  "  the  Big 
Woods,"  to  study  mathematics  with  a  Mr.  Phelps, 
the  county  surveyor.  In  the  four  months  I  was 
with  him,  I  went  as  a  hand  occasionally,  and  thus 
secured  practice  as  well  as  theory.  This  was  of 
advantage  to  me  in  early  times  in  Illinois. 

Two  years  before  this,  the  first  Sunday-school 
ever  held  in  our  place,  Georgesville,  was  organized. 
The  exercises  consisted  mainly  of  learning  and 
reciting  chapters  of  the  New  Testament.  Out- 
side of  the  large  towns,  Central  Ohio  was  slow  in 
planting  Sunday-schools. 


CONVERSION.  35 


CHAPTER  II. 

CONVERSION  AND  CALL  TO  THE  MINISTRY. 

IN  the  month  of  September,  1830,  I  attended  a 
camp-meeting  near  Beech's  Woolen  Factory, 
in  Madison  County,  where  I  joined  the  Church, 
and  made  my  first  public  attempt  to  seek  the  sal- 
vation of  my  soul.  My  name  was  put  on  the 
class-book  as  a  seeker  on  probation.  I  was  fully 
resolved  to  seek  until  I  found  peace  to  my  soul; 
but  some  way  I  dreaded  the  class-meeting,  and 
feared  it  as  though  it  would  prove  my  ruin.  But 
when  the  leader,  Henry  Clover,  spoke  to  me  with 
kind  words  of  encouragement,  and  assured  me  that 
no  sincere  seeker  was  ever  lost,  my  feelings  com- 
pletely changed.  From  that  moment  I  have  be- 
lieved the  class-meeting  to  be  one  of  the  greatest 
means  of  grace  in  the  spiritual  economy  of  our 
Church.  I  sought  earnestly,  embracing  every  op- 
portunity to  go  forward  for  prayers ;  and  when  the 
camp-meeting  was  held  again  on  our  circuit, 
thanks  be  to  God  through  Christ,  I  was  made  a 
new  creature  ;  my  burden  was  rolled  off,  and  I  rested 
sweetly  in  my  Savior. 

This  peace  was  destined  to  be  of  short  dura- 
tion. I  was  the  only  young  person  in  my  ac- 
quaintance who  was  even  attempting  to  be  re- 
ligious. There  was  to  be  a  social  gathering,  with 
"innocent  plays."  I  found  I  had  not  given  up  the 

3 


26  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

world.  I  was  riding  in  the  woods  after  dark,  and 
the  tempter  pressed  his  arguments  upon  me:  "No 
harm  could  come  of  it ;"  "  Some  Church-members 
frequented  such  resorts  and  allowed  many  such 
things ;"  "  If  I  denied  and  separated  myself  from  all 
such  amusements,  I  would  be  a  castaway  from 
young  society,  and  the  subject  of  reproach."  I  con- 
cluded not  to  be  so  particular  as  to  cause  perse- 
cution to  be  hurled  at  me  ;  a  middle  course  would 
meet  the  case.  Just  then  the  Spirit  left  me  as 
plainly  as  it  came  when  I  promised  to  forsake  all 
sin  and  live  for  God  and  his  cause.  My  hair 
seemed  to  rise,  and  I  felt  to  see  if  my  hat  was  not 
going  off  my  head.  Darkness  pervaded  my  mind, 
and  I  repented  of  my  wickedness  and  struggled 
back  into  the  light.  But  that  settled  the  question 
of  worldly  amusements  for  all  time. 

This  was  the  fall  of  1831,  and  I  was  in  my 
twentieth  year.  After  a  long  deliberation,  my 
father  had  concluded  to  move  to  the  prairies  of 
Illinois.  It  had  been  thought  that  only  what 
could  be  fenced  could  be  farmed,  and  that  the 
scarcity  of  timber  would,  therefore,  limit  the  cul- 
tivated land  to  a  small  area.  Nevertheless,  we 
decided  to  go  at  least  as  far  as  the  Illinois  River. 
We  had  one  large  wagon,  of  the  kind  called  later 
"prairie  schooners,"  with  four  horses — which,  as 
being  the  eldest  of  the  eight  children,  I  drove — 
and  one  two-horse  wagon,  both  well-stocked  with 
camp  equipage,  provisions,  utensils,  etc. 

On  the  6th  of  October  we  started  on  the  jour- 
ney. We  went  to  the  west  line  of  Ohio ;  thence  to 


CONVERSION.  27 

Greenville,  White  River,  near  Strawtown,  Ind. ; 
through  "the  Wilderness"  and  Wabash  Prairies, 
to  Danville ;  across  a  branch  of  the  Grand  Prairie 
to  Bloomington,  111.,  then  a  hamlet  of  about  twenty- 
five  houses  ;  reached  Pekin,  November  6th,  just 
one  month  out,  where  I  saw  my  first  steamboat; 
thence  crossed  over  to  the  neighborhood  of  Can- 
ton, Fulton  County,  and  settled  near  where  Fair- 
view  now  stands. 

The  journey  was  uneventful.  The  summer 
had  been  unusually  wet,  and  the  roads  were  very 
muddy.  It  was  not  uncommon  to  spend  a  week 
in  going  forty-five  miles.  The  Wilderness  was  a 
flat  beech-forest,  forty  miles  with  but  one  house, 
and  no  bottom  to  the  roads;  that  is,  it  was  mud 
down  as  far  as  we  knew.  Teams,  with  families 
camped,  looked  like  a  small  camp-meeting.  One 
evening,  after  supper,  I  strolled  out  among  the 
groups  of  men  around  their  camp-fires.  The 
general  topic  of  conversation  was  the  depth  of 
mud,  each  claiming  that  he  had  seen  the  worst. 
But  one  fellow  said :  UA11  that  you  have  seen  is  noth- 
ing. I  was  looking  ahead,  and  saw  a  plug  hat  on 
the  mud,  and  thought  I  had  a  prize.  As  I  got 
nearer,  it  seemed  to  have  a  man's  head  in  it,  which 
said,  'Let  me  alone,  I  have  a  good  horse  under 
me!"!  That  closed  the  conversation  on  that  sub- 
ject. I  do  not  remember  any  bridges,  but  plenty 
of  poles  everywhere  to  pry  out  with.  The  sloughs 
on  the  Wabash  Prairie  were  almost  as  bad  as  the 
Wilderness. 

We  spent  the  winter  in  looking  over  the  coun- 


28  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

try,  with  the  view  to  a  permanent  location.  In 
those  before-railroad  days,  the  great  object  was  to 
settle  on  a  navigable  stream.  We  purposed  set- 
tling on  the  Illinois  or  the  Mississippi.  Accord- 
ingly, a  Mr.  Day,  my  father,  and  myself,  set  out, 
about  January  i,  1832,  to  examine  the  country  up 
along  the  Mississippi.  It  was  an  almost  unbroken 
wilderness.  We  passed  Swartz's  Grove,  near  where 
Abingdon  now  stands.  In  Monmouth  there  was 
only  one  house,  occupied  by  a  Mr.  McNeal,  the 
recorder  of  Warren  County.  Thence  we  went  to  Kl- 
lison  Grove,  Mr.  Jarvis's,  and  stayed  at  Mr.  Wells's. 
The  next  day  we  visited  Pence's  Fort.  Mr.  Pence 
and  his  family  I  shall  not  forget.  My  father 
would  have  bought  his  farm,  but  the  title  was  un- 
certain, as  the  land  was  military. 

We  dared  not  cross  our  horses  over  Henderson 
River  on  the  ice,  as  a  January  thaw  had  set  in,  and 
we  feared  the  ice  would  go  out.  So  we  left  them, 
and  walked  up  the  Mississippi  to  the  Upper  Yellow 
Banks,  where  New  Boston  was  built.  We  found 
three  houses  in  Mercer  County,  two  of  them  con- 
tending for  the  above  town-site.  Two  young  mar- 
ried couples  had  moved  out  just  before  to  a  point 
eight  miles  east  of  the  river,  said  to  be  a  good 
place  for  a  settlement.  We  walked  out  there. 
Meantime  it  had  snowed  about  eight  inches,  and 
turned  desperately  cold.  The  newly  married  men 
had  cut  hay  and  hauled  some  logs  for  their  house 
before  they  took  their  wives  up,  in  the  time  of  the 
thaw.  They  had  raised  their  house  up  one  story, 
cut  out  a  place  for  the  chimney,  built  a  fire,  and 


CONVERSION.  29 

made  clapboards  as  fast  as  they  could,  putting 
poles  across  inside.  The  roof  was  made  of  four 
courses  of  three-feet  clapboards.  On  each  side  of 
the  fire-place  was  what  we  called  a  Jackson  bed- 
stead, made  of  hickory  poles,  which  answered  a 
good  purpose  and  was  fashionable  in  those  days. 
A  blanket  served  for  a  door.  It  was  stormy,  and 
we  asked  to  stay.  They  said :  "  You  see  we  are 
caught  in  the  storm  just  as  you  are;  but  we  will  do 
the  best  we  can  for  you."  They  made  us  a  bed  on 
the  ground-floor.  After  we  had  got  into  a  sound 
sleep,  one  of  the  oxen  pushed  away  the  blanket, 
walked  in  and  put  his  nose  on  my  father's  face, 
which  aroused  him.  He  threw  up  his  hands,  and 
the  ox  threw  up  his  horns  against  the  clapboard 
roof,  which  we  thought  was  all  coming  down  on  us. 
But  nobody  was  hurt,  and  after  driving  out  the  ox 
and  securing  the  door  with  a  pole,  we  managed  to 
get  some  rest  and  sleep,  notwithstanding  the  night 
was  severely  cold. 

In  the  morning  we  had  for  breakfast  fried  pork, 
corn-bread,  potatoes,  and  coffee  made  out  of  burnt 
corn-bread.  Before  night  we  longed  for  more  of  it, 
for  we  traveled  all  day  till  after  dark  without  a  bite 
to  eat.  We  held  a  council  of  war  that  morning, 
and  decided  that  we  would  make  for  Pence's  Fork 
by  the  old  lead-mine  road,  rather  than  go  back  the 
way  we  came.  I  have  thought  it  was  thirty  miles 
through  the  grass  and  eight  inches  of  snow.  But 
there  was  no  house  this  side,  and  we  determined  to 
go  through.  My  father  had  been  afflicted  with  sci- 
atic rheumatism  in  one  limb ;  and  after  tramping 


30  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

about  eight  miles,  he  began  to  suffer  and  to  fall  be- 
hind, Mr.  Day  pushing  on,  and  I  about  half-way 
between  them,  with  feelings  which,  though  fresh,  I 
have  no  words  to  express. 

We  reached  Pope  River,  and  stopped  to  rest  a 
little.  We  had  no  means  of  building  a  fire,  or  we 
would  have  stayed  there.  The  frost  was  flying, 
with  a  hard  west  wind.  Father  was  compelled  to 
rest  a  little,  and  said :  "  You  and  Day  go  on,  and  you 
get  a  horse  and  meet  me."  All  I  said  to  him  was, 
to  keep  in  the  road,  which  could  be  seen  on  the 
bottom,  the  grass  being  tall  on  either  side.  It  was 
quite  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  a  hard  snowy  road 
twelve  miles  or  more.  Mr.  Day  and  I  started  side 
by  side.  It  was  for  life,  as  I  hardly  expected  to  see 
my  father  alive  again.  Before  we  got  half-way, 
Mr.  Day  proposed  to  slacken  his  pace  and  let  me 
go  on.  I  reached  the  fort  at  dusk,  and  young  Mr. 
Pence  saddled  a  horse  and  was  off  on  a  lope  as 
quick  as  possible.  I  could  not  have  gone,  as  I  was 
all  overdone,  sweating,  shivering  with  the  cold; 
but  my  anxiety  was  not  abated  until  I  saw  my 
father.  He  was  met  about  five  miles  back.  He 
said  that  after  we  left  he  felt  a  little  rested,  and 
walked  on  and  felt  better,  but  was  so  cold  that  he 
grew  sleepy ;  and  when  he  got  on  the  horse  he  had 
to  hold  to  the  mane  to  keep  from  falling.  Mr. 
Day  only  got  in  a  short  time  before  him.  Father 
was  shaking  with  cold,  so  that  we  had  to  help  him 
off.  Mrs-.  Pence  brought  him  a  good  cup  of  coffee ; 
but  he  shook  so  with  cold  and  fatigue  that  it  had 
to  be  put  to  his  mouth.  He  was  soon  warmed, 


CONVERSION.  31 

and  found  that  he  was  not  frozen,  except  that  his 
nose  and  one  cheek  were  frost-bitten.  I  had  never 
been  so  tired  and  cold  before,  never  had  such  a 
burden  rolled  off,  and  never  experienced  such 
thankfulness. 

That  was  one  of  the  hardest  day's  travel  I  ever 
have  had,  and  I  feel  yet  that  it  was  through  the 
goodness  of  God  that  I  was  enabled  to  endure  it. 
We  rested  a  day  or  two,  and  returned  home,  and 
settled  as  above  stated. 

In  the  spring  of  1832  the  renowned  Black 
Hawk  war  broke  out,  about  the  time  grass  was  so 
that  stock  could  live  on  it.  Almost  all  the  young 
men,  and  some  of  the  old  ones,  volunteered  as 
rangers  to  fight  Indians.  I  was  anxious  to  go,  but 
we  were  new-comers,  and  much  depended  on  rais- 
ing a  crop.  Rails  were  to  be  made  and  hauled,  and 
my  father  thought  he  could  spare  neither  a  man  nor 
a  horse ;  but  promised  that,  as  soon  as  we  could  get 
the  spring  work  done,  I  could  go.  He  thought 
there  was  not  much  danger,  and  staid  all  alone  on 
his  place.  There  was  not  a  man  within  six  miles 
who  did  not  leave  at  times.  He  said  that  when 
we  saw  a  man  running,  and  crying,  and  saying  the 
Indians  had  killed  all  but  him,  then  it  would  be 
time  enough  to  run. 

Some  time  in  June,  Major  Foster,  a  recruiting 
officer,  with  a  number  of  men  that  had  come  in 
on  furlough,  was  to  start  up  to  Gum's  Fort,  on  the 
waters  of  Henderson  River.  I  took  gun  and  ammu- 
nition, and  a  good  horse,  and  joined  them  at  Canton. 

About  a  dozen  men  of  us  set  out  for  the  seat 


32  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

of  war.  Mr.  Westerfield,  a  man  of  good  repute, 
came  an  hour  behind, 'and  concluded  to  overtake 
us,  but  had  only  ridden  about  one  mile  north  of 
Canton,  near  the  house  of  Captain  Barnes,  when 
he  heard  a  man,  who  afterwards  proved  to  be 
one  familiarly  known  as  Father  Thurman,  chasing 
a  coyote  wolf  with  his  horse  and  dogs,  hallooing 
at  the  top  of  his  voice  every  jump.  Mr.  Wester- 
field  heard  it,  but  could  not  see  for  a  skirt  of 
timber;  and  as  big  Indian  was  on  his  mind,  he 
turned  his  horse  back  for  town,  and  cried  at  the 
top  of  his  voice,  "The  Indians  are  killing  Barnes's 
family!"  and  everybody  believed  it.  In  a  few 
minutes  a  fort  was  commenced,  and  word  sent  to 
every  family  near  but  Mr.  Barnes.  Of  course 
every  body  ran  to  Canton.  Creeks  were  out  of 
their  banks.  One  horse  was  drowned,  and  some 
members  of  families  that  were  in  delicate  health 
were  injured. 

It  is  strange  how  scared  men  will  act.  The 
first  man  Mr.  Westerfield  met  was  a  Mr.  Coleman, 
who  had  a  store  and  horse-mill,  a  lame  boy  attend- 
ing the  mill,  just  across  the  road.  He  did  not  even 
call  his  boy;  turned  the  key  on  his  store,  mounted 
a  horse  which  a  customer  had  hitched  to  the  rack, 
put  his  plug  hat  under  him,  as  there  was  no 
saddle,  and  galloped  down  the  road  with  Wester- 
field, crying  the  alarm.  About  three  miles  down 
the  road  they  met  a  Mr.  F ,  who,  on  hear- 
ing the  news,  was  so  scared,  that  he  ran  into  his 
house,  took  what  change  he  had,  left  his  wife  and 
family,  and  never  stopped  until  he  got  to  Ross's 


CONVERSION.  33 

Ferry,  on  the  Illinois  River,  and  actually  rode  into 
the  river  to  meet  the  ferry-boat,  such  was  his 
fright. 

It  is  plain  to  be  seen  that  men  ought  to  know 
the  facts  before  they  give  any  alarm  at  a  time  of 
excitement.  As  my  father  and  family  lived  eight 
miles  out,  and  Barnes's  place  was  on  the  road, 
they  heard  nothing  of  it  till  they  heard  both  sides 
at  once,  and  kept  quietly  at  their  work.  I  was 
out  fifteen  or  twenty  days,  saw  the  rangers  and 
country,  was  well  persuaded  that  the  Indians 
would  rather  be  west  of  the  Mississippi  River,  and 
concluded  not  to  volunteer,  but  returned  to  hear, 
of  Westerfield's  defeat,  as  it  was  called. 

Several  times  during  the  summer  it  was  re- 
ported that  Indians  were  within  a  few  miles  of 
us.  I  will  mention  one  more  scene.  There  was 
what  was  called  Babbit's  Settlement,  north-west  of 
Canton  some  twenty-five  miles.  Five  or  six 
families  had  quietly  stuck  to  their  farms.  One  of 
their  number,  a  Mr.  Cox,  went  out  to  hunt  a  two- 
year-old  colt  that  was  not  bridle-wise,  and  got 
back  with  it  just  at  dusk.  In  his  absence,  two  or 
three  soldiers  on  a  furlough  from  the  army,  called 
to  stay  over  night.  As  he  came  near  the  house, 
he  heard  strange  voices,  and  at  once  thought  it 
was  Indians,  and  was  sure  they  had  killed  his  wife 
and  children.  In  his  grief  and  alarm  he  struck 
out  for  Canton  on  the  colt,  crying,  supposing  his 
wife  and  children  were  brutally  murdered.  About 
half-way,  with  a  man  he  had  met,  he  passed  Mr. 
Zebulon  Foster's,  waked  them  up,  and  told  them 


34  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

that  the  Indians  had  killed  his  family.  When 
asked  for  particulars,  they  swore  it  was  true,  and 
started  at  half  speed.  Well,  the  family  got  up  a 
yoke  of  oxen,  notified  a  widow  and  family,  and 
started  the  same  way  at  midnight.  Mr.  Cox 
alarmed  the  people  with  his  cries  and  tears  as  far 
as  he  could,  and  by  nine  o'clock  they  had  sixty 
men  with  arms  to  go  out  to  war.  In  the  mean- 
time, after  she  had  given  the  soldiers — the  inno- 
cent cause  of  all  this  alarm — their  supper,  Mrs. 
Cox  became  very  uneasy,  fearing  that  her  husband 
had  been  thrown  from  his  colt  and  killed  or  crip- 
pled. She  induced  her  guests  to  go  in  search  of 
him  in  the  night.  They  soon  got  tired  and  rode 
on  to  Canton,  and  hearing  of  Mr.  Cox's  trouble, 
found  him  and  told  him  that  his  wife  was  very 
uneasy  about  him,  and  that  he  had  better  go 
home.  This  was  the  end  of  another  Indian  scare. 
As  the  road  was  three  miles  from  our  place, 
my  father  fortunately  did  not  see  the  man,  or 
he,  too,  would  have  been  constrained  to  flee  for 
safety. 

This  was  a  summer  of  almost  constant  excite- 
ment. Black  Hawk  and  his  band  were  whipped, 
and  fifty  miles  of  territory  ceded  to  the  United 
States  on  the  west  side  of  the  Mississippi  River, 
all  that  was  then  thought  we  should  ever  want. 

Illinois  having  proved  to  be  wonderfully  rich 
in  soil  and  natural  advantages,  about  this  time 
experienced  a  great  influx  of  population  and  a 
wonderful  rise  in  property. 

We  read  in  the  papers  of  the  first  railroad  in 


CONVERSION.  35 

New  York.  I  asked  my  father  what  he  thought 
of  such  a  project — flat  iron  rails  for  steam-cars. 
He  thought  a  moment,  and  said  it  might  pay  be- 
tween large  cities,  but  the  expense  would  be  too 
great  to  build  through  the  country.  The  old  gen- 
tleman lived  to  ride  on  such  a  road  from  Illinois 
to  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

From  1834  to  the  spring  of  1837,  times  were 
good,  and  speculation  ran  high.  But  the  awful 
crash  financially,  in  1837,  broke  up  thousands. 
Only  men  that  had  a  surplus  of  money  and  were 
out  of  debt,  stood  the  shock.  No  money  could  be 
had  on  credit  for  less  than  twelve  per  cent,  and 
property  and  produce  were  not  worth  anything  to 
speak  of.  I  hauled  one  load  of  good  wheat  thirty- 
five  miles  to  Peoria,  and  could  get  only  twenty-five 
cents  a  bushel.  Pork  was  sold  from  $1.25  to  $1.50 
a  hundred  pounds.  The  farmer  had  to  run  all 
over  a  village  to  sell  a  few  pounds  of  butter  at 
six  cents  a  pound,  and  take  it  in  calico.  Bggs 
were  three  cents  a  dozen. 

Everything  but  the  Churches  stood  still.  The 
Methodist  Church  was  far  in  the  lead.  We  had 
valiant  men  that  led  the  hosts  of  Israel — Peter 
Cartwright,  Peter  Akers,  John  Sinclair,  Henry  Sum- 
mers, the  Hobarts,  the  Haneys,  Wilson  Pitner, 
Peter  R.  Borein,  John  Morey,  and  a  host  of 
others. 

There  was  no  regular  circuit  preaching  in  the 
northern  part  of  Fulton  County,  Illinois,  till  the 
fall  of  1832.  Then  the  Rev.  Peter  R.  Borein  came 
to  us  in  the  spirit  of  his  Master.  It  was  his  first 


36  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

circuit.  He  acquitted  himself  well,  and  was 
known  only  to  be  loved  and  respected.  Just  before 
his  arrival,  Brother  Carter,  who  was  a  kind  of  mis- 
sionary among  us,  held  a  camp-meeting  at  Canton. 
I  suppose  the  ground  is  all  covered  with  buildings 
now.  He  was  assisted,  I  think,  by  Rev.  A.  D. 
West,  a  located  preacher,  Brothers  Jordan  and 
Joel  Arrington,  all  of  precious  memory.  Attend- 
ance was  large,  and  much  good  was  done. 

I  had  been  under  a  heavy  cloud  for  a  year,  al- 
though I  had  often  walked  five  miles  to  class- 
meeting,  and  always  took  part  in  the  prayer- 
meetings  when  asked  to  do  so.  I  resolved  at  this 
meeting  to  have  the  cloud  of  darkness  raised,  and 
to  seek  and  look  for  all  that  God  had  in  store  for 
me  through  Christ's  all-cleansing  blood.  Hard 
was  the  struggle,  and  not  until  Monday  morning 
at  the  altar,  almost  in  despair,  I  looked  away  from 
self  and  all  but  Christ  and  him  crucified.  Just 
then  I  was  enabled  to  receive  the  blessing  at  his 
hand;  was  taken  from  the  mire  of  sin  and  unbe- 
lief; a  new  song  was  put  in  my  mouth,  and  I 
made  no  apology  for  shouting,  " Glory!  glory !" 
for  a  full  salvation  to  my  soul!  I  started  for  a 
local  preacher;  but  he  escaped  me.  He  told  me 
afterwards  he  was  too  cold  to  meet  one  so  bap- 
tized by  the  Holy  Ghost.  I  believe  the  whole 
work  was  done  at  one  blast,  as  I  never  could 
question  the  fact  that  God  could  justify  and  sanc- 
tify at  the  same  time ;  and  I  believe  it  is  often 
done. 

But  I  soon  came  down  from  the  mount  of  trans- 


CONVERSION.  37 

figuration,  and  was  confronted  with  one  of  the  most 
fearful  temptations  of  my  life.  I  was  cutting  house- 
logs,  my  brother  hauling  them.  I  could  more 
than  keep  him  going,  and  improved  my  spare 
moments  reading  my  Bible.  I  opened  at  Job,  and 
read  the  book  through.  The  thought  of  his  trials, 
and  that  mine  should  be  like  them,  brought  great 
distress  upon  me.  I  looked  backward  and  forward 
over  life,  and  feared  I  should  not  be  able  to  endure 
the  test.  All  at  once  the  thought  came:  "I  am 
fully  prepared,  and  it  would  be  better  to  die  now, 
and  go  to  the  land  of  the  blessed  and  sing  the  songs 
of  heaven  forever."  And  knowing  no  other  way 
to  get  off  honorably,  I  set  in  to  pray:  "O  God,  if 
it  can  be,  consistently  with  thy  will,  take  me  speed- 
ily to  thyself,  while  I  feel  thou  art  mine  and  I  am 
thine."  For  a  time  my  prayer  was  a  constant  en- 
treaty to  him,  until  it  became  an  agony.  I  often 
thought  of  the  Apostle  Paul's  three  prayers  for  God 
to  take  the  thorn  out  of  his  flesh.  His  faith  and 
zeal  moved  his  Lord  to  give  an  answer,  and  stopped 
his  intercession.  So  in  my  case,  God  put  an  end 
to  my  prayers  for  death.  While  kneeling  at  the 
root  of  a  tree,  far  from  any  one  but  God  and  the 
supplicant,  while  in  an  agony,  wrestling  like  Jacob 
of  old,  with  the  desire  to  get  away  from  the  trials 
of  earth  to  an  eternal  home,  just  behind  me  I  heard 
a  voice,  saying:  "Your  work  is  not  done;  go  ye 
into  all  the  world  and  preach  the  gospel."  The 
boy,  seeking  to  be  liberated  by  death,  instantly 
turned  around  to  see  who  was  there ;  for  it  seemed 
impossible  that  any  one  should  be  near.  Suffice  it 


38  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

to  say,  it  turned  the  seeker's  mind  to  meditation  on 
a  subject  to  which  he  had  never  given  a  serious 
moment  of  reflection  before ;  and  never  again  did 
he  try  to  bring  death  by  prayer. 

Soon  after  this  I  was  prevailed  upon  to  take  a 
class,  by  my  pastor,  Rev.  Peter  R.  Borein,  although 
it  seemed  to  be  a  great  undertaking.  I  tried  to 
live  a  Christian  life,  and  thought  much  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  ministry.  I  had  an  overwhelming  sense 
of  my  inability,  arising  from  my  lack  of  educa- 
tional advantages ;  and  had  often  said  that  I  would 
rather  be  anything  than  a  poor  Methodist  preacher. 
Soon  after  this  I  was  licensed  as  an  exhorter,  my 
license  being  written  by  Peter  Cartwright.  This 
was  the  first  step  toward  preaching.  I  was  also 
one  of  the  circuit  stewards.  Our  members,  and  the 
people  generally,  were  at  fault  as  to  pastoral  sup- 
port, and  I  used  to  stir  up  their  minds  on  that 
subject. 

We  came  to  the  third  quarterly  meeting.  Revs. 
N.  G.  Berryman  and  Rufus  Lumery  were  on  the 
Canton  Circuit,  with  Rev.  Henry  Summers  presid- 
ing elder.  The  quarterly  conference  was  composed 
of  nearly  forty  members.  The  claims  of  our 
preachers  were  hardly  half  paid,  the  presiding  elder 
in  the  same  condition.  As  there  was  no  mission- 
ary money  for  him,  and  he  had  to  take  his  pay  in 
proportion  with  the  preachers,  he  had  the  unpleas- 
ant task  of  holding  up  the  claims  of  needy  preach- 
ers on  each  occasion.  On  the  present  occasion  we 
were  brought  to  a  stand.  In  our  history  no  preacher 
had  received  all  of  his  scanty  allowance.  Hard 


CONVERSION.  39 

times  were  pleaded  as  an  excuse.  The  writer  made 
his  first  breeze  in  quarterly  conference  by  moving 
a  resolution  that  a  bill  be  made  out  against  each 
class,  according  to  their  numbers  and  ability,  and 
that  each  leader  collect  it  or  pay  it,  and  for  once 
pay  our  preachers  in  full.  We  had  a  mighty  stir ; 
but  all  except  one  leader  agreed  to  try,  and  on  the 
fourth  quarter  we  met  the  claims.  I  had  to  put  up 
ten  dollars  out  of  my  own  cash. 

In  our  early  settlement,  the  people  were  thrown 
together  from  all  quarters  of  our  country.  We  be- 
came acquainted  with  Zebulon  Foster  and  family, 
who  had  been  among  the  first  settlers  of  Fort 
Washington,  now  Cincinnati,  Ohio;  and  our  ac- 
quaintance resulted  in  my  marriage  with  Miss 
Harriet  Foster,  his  youngest  daughter;  and  his 
youngest  son,  Harvey  Foster,  to  my  oldest  sister. 
We  were  married  by  Rev.  H.  Summers  on  the  4th 
of  December,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1833.  I, 
of  course,  felt  that  the  best  of  the  bargain  was  on 
my  side,  and,  in  fact,  have  never  had  reason  to 
change  my  mind.  She  was  of  a  sweet  disposition, 
a  member  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  and 
walked  worthy  of  her  profession.  Our  marriage 
resulted  in  five  children — three  boys  and  two  girls. 

In  1844  I  took  my  family  to  Wisconsin,  and 
settled  in  Potosi,  where,  on  July  14,  1847,  my  wife 
died  in  full  assurance  of  hope;  and  where  I 
buried  by  her  side,  two  months  later,  our  youngest 
daughter,  a  babe  of  thirteen  months.  Our  other 
children  reached  maturity.  My  wife's  death  almost 
crushed  my  spirits.  In  addition  to  this,  I  was 


40  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

financially  broken  up,  and  had  nothing  but  my 
hands  to  depend  upon.  I  was  working  lead-mines, 
or  rather,  prospecting.  My  misfortunes,  however, 
were  only  temporal.  I  had  faith  in  God's 
goodness  and  promises,  and  did  not  think  for  a 
moment  but  that  the  Giver  of  all  good  gifts  would 
help  in  the  hour  of  distress. 

Very  soon  I  struck  a  streak  of  mineral,  which 
brought  several  hundred  dollars,  and  greatly  helped 
me  financially  ;  and,  indeed,  we  never  were  with- 
out the  real  necessities  of  life.  My  loneliness  drove 
me  to  thoughts  of  marriage.  There  was  a  widow 
about  my  age  near  by.  I  proposed  marriage,  and 
was  accepted.  It  transpired  that  she  had  been 
twice  married  before — the  last  man  dead,  the  first 
one  still  living,  and  that  they  had  never  been 
divorced.  I  was  not  informed  of  the  facts  in  the 
case.  Of  course  matters  came  to  light.  Our 
union  was  not  congenial  before,  and  when  the 
situation  was  understood,  I  felt  it  wrong  to  live  in 
that  relation.  I  expected  a  separation,  and  in 
nine  months  obtained  a  divorce  in  Lancaster, 
Grant  County,  Wisconsin.  But  I  have  never  for- 
given myself.  My  marriage  was  too  hasty.  I  did 
not  give  myself  time  carefully  and  prayerfully  to 
ponder  my  steps.  I  would  say  here  that  the 
divorce  was  not  got  in  order  to  marry  again.  I 
felt  that  I  had  disgraced  myself  with  my  family 
and  friends,  and  was  brought  very  low  in  spirits. 
Our  preacher,  Rev.  F.  Smith,  of  Wisconsin  Con- 
ference, came  around,  and  I  told  him  to  take  up 
the  case,  and  have  a  committee  of  Church  members 


CONVERSION.  41 

to  investigate  the  matter — as  I  was  class- 
leader — so  that  the  Church  might  be  relieved  as 
far  as  possible.  He  did  so,  and  they  acquitted 
me.  Although  I  suffered  severely,  I  found  no 
place  for  repentance  for  my  great  mistake.  Sor- 
row was  upon  me  such  as  I  never  felt  before.  I 
was  humiliated  in  life  and  in  the  sight  of  God. 

.Soon  after  this,  we  left  Potosi,  and  went  to 
Lost  Grove,  near  Mineral  Point,  as  I  was  still 
prospecting  in  the  lead-mines.  I  took  my  Church 
letter  as  an  exhorter.  Rev.  Henry  Summers,  pre- 
siding elder,  was  an  old  friend,  and  helped  me,  as 
I  was  a  stranger.  Soon  the  way  opened  for  me 
to  exercise  my  gifts  as  an  exhorter  in  my  own 
neighborhood  and  in  other  places,  and  the  breth- 
ren gave  me  license  as  a  local  preacher,  notwith- 
standing I  objected.  I  thought  I  was  as  far 
along  as  I  ought  to  go,  but  was  overruled.  I 
feared  they  had  almost  spoiled  an  exhorter.  This 
was  in  1849.  Here  I  was  enabled  to  make  enough 
to  rise  out  of  all  my  financial  difficulties.  My 
sister  Rachel  kept  house  for  us,  and,  as  a  family, 
we  were  all  at  home,  with  my  brother  Robert, 
as  we  were  in  company  mining,  and  were  as  com- 
fortable and  happy  as  we  could  be  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. 

In  the  fall  we  moved  to  Mineral  Point,  so  that 
my  poor  children  could  have  the  benefit  of  a  good 
school.  We  carried  on  our  work  in  the  mines, 
and  frequently  tried  to  preach. 

This  year,  Rev.  J.  M.  Snow  was  on  the  Mineral 
Point  charge,  and  he  had  a  plan  that  embraced 

4 


42  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

all  the  local  preachers,  and  by  which,  every  four 
weeks,  I  was  to  preach  in  the  old  stone  Church 
in  his  presence.  My  first  attempt  I  well  remem- 
ber. All  the  week  I  could  not  get  my  mind  on 
any  subject.  The  time  came,  and  the  attempt 
must  be  made.  After  the  preliminaries,  I  an- 
nounced the  text.  Suddenly  I  became  so  blind 
that  I  could  scarcely  see  or  utter  a  word.  After 
trying  for  some  minutes,  I  said,  "  Brother  Snow, 
you  must  preach."  But  he  said,  "Go  on,"  and  I 
tried  again;  but  soon  said,  "I  will  quit,"  and  sat 
down.  As  I  retired,  I  saw  that  everybody's  eyes 
were  straining  at  me.  You  may  believe  that  the 
preacher  felt  as  if  he  could  have  crawled  out  at 
an  auger-hole,  if  there  had  been  any.  Brother 
Snow  talked  a  little,  and  dismissed.  As  the  people 
left,  it  was  discovered  that  three  or  four  penitents 
were  weeping,  and  not  willing  to  leave  without 
prayers.  We  continued  with  them  till  they  were 
all  converted.  Then  the  preacher  in  charge  said 
he  had  been  blessed,  and  was  looking  for  a  re- 
vival. Then  the  Sunday-school  superintendent 
got  up,  and  said  that  he  had  been  praying,  and 
that  his  prayers  had  been  answered.  Then  Brother 
Dyer  got  up,  and  said  he  felt  like  a  poor  boy  at  a 
frolic — he  had  not  a  word  to  say. 

But  be  it  said,  to  the  glory  of  God,  that  the 
meetings  were  continued,  and  there  were  more 
than  forty  souls  set  at  liberty.  The  series  of 
meetings  which  was  to  have  begun  in  two  weeks, 
started  that  night.  It  was  a  good  work,  and  my^ 
own  family  shared  largely  in  the  blessings  that 


CONVERSION.  43 

God  showered  upon  us.  They  called  it  my  break- 
down. Although  I  failed  often,  I  never  so  entirely 
failed  as  at  that  time.  It  was  a  great  trial.  The 
next  Sunday  evening,  in  the  same  place,  three 
hundred  crowded  the  house.  When  I  announced 
the  text,  I  looked  up,  and  every  eye  was  on  the 
preacher.  He  said  :  "I  suppose  you  all  remember 
last  Sunday  night's  failure ;  but  I  am  not  convinced 
that  there  is  no  preach  in  me  yet."  This  brought 
a  smile  to  many  a  face,  and  we  set  out  with  un- 
usual liberty. 

Soon  after  *  this,  Rev.  E.  Yocum,  presiding 
elder,  called  on  me  to  go  as  a  supply  to  one  of  his 
circuits;  but  under  the  circumstances,  I  declined, 
and  my  brother  Thomas  and  I  started  to  Yellow 
Stone  to  our  mines,  with  a  good  buggy  animal; 
but  she  became  frightened,  and  kicked  all  about 
our  heads,  and  tore  almost  everything  to  pieces. 
It  looked  like  a  providence  that  one  or  both  of  us 
were  not  killed;  but  neither  of  us  was  hurt. 

I  had  been  gloomy  all  day,  and  after  the  above 
escape,  felt  worse,  and  slept  but  little  through  the 
night.  Next  day  I  was  with  a  hired  man,  helping 
to  sink  a  prospect  shaft.  I  was  in  the  ground 
about  thirty  feet,  but  was  exceedingly  sad,  and 
grew  worse,  until  I  had  no  power  to  work.  My 
feelings  were  awful.  Panting  for  breath,  I  sat 
down  in  the  shaft,  and  said:  "O  Lord,  what  ails 
me?"  Just  then  a  hundred  promises  which  I  had 
made,  that  if  ever  the  way  opened  I  would  go  and 
preach  the  gospel,  rushed  to  mind ;  and  now, 
though  the  way  was  open,  I  had  refused.  Two 


44  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

things  were  in  the  way.  The  first  was  that  di- 
vorced woman,  and  the  belief  that,  if  I  went,  the 
cause  would  be  injured  and  myself  disgraced. 
Then  came  this  text:  "If  you  eat  any  deadly 
thing,  it  shall  not  hurt  you."  The  other  was  the 
fact  that  I  had  one  son  at  Lawrence  University, 
and  wanted  to  educate  the  other  children,  and  my 
prospects  were  fair  to  do  so.  Then  came  the  words : 
"  Every  one  that  hath  forsaken  houses,  or  brethren, 
or  sisters,  or  father,  or  mother,  or  children,  for  my 
name's  sake,  shall  receive  a  hundred-fold,  and  shall 
inherit  everlasting  life."  The  response  was:  If 
deadly  poison  will  not  kill,  I  will  leave  the  children 
to  God's  care,  and  go.  The  best  of  the  bargain  on 
my  side — eternal  life. 

It  was  now  all  settled.  I  put  pick  and  shovel 
into  the  tub,  stepped  in,  and  said,  "  Hoist,"  and  my 
man  took  me  up  out  of  the  pit.  He  asked  me 
what  it  meant.  I  told  him  I  was  going  to  quit 
work  for  awhile.  When  we  got  to  the  cabin  for 
dinner,  I  said  to  my  brother  Robert:  "I  am  going 
to  try  to  preach  the  gospel."  He  said,  after  a  mo- 
ment's reflection,  quoting  Davy  Crockett:  " Be  sure 
you  're  right,  then  go  ahead ; "  and  go  I  did,  and  re- 
ported myself  to  the  presiding  elder.  He  sent  me 
a  note  with  directions  where  to  meet  him,  and  in- 
structions to  help  Rev.  A.  H.  Walter  on  the  Wing- 
ville  and  Lancaster  work;  altogether  a  different 
direction  from  where  I  was  first  asked  to  go.  This 
suited  me  better.  The  work  went  within  seven 
miles  of  where  I  had  lived,  and  Lancaster  was 
where  the  divorce  was  granted.  The  reader  may 


CONVERSION.  45 

guess  how  any  one  would  feel,  six  months  after, 
to  be  in  the  court-house  well-filled  with  people,  as 
there  were  no  church  buildings  in  the  place.  The 
writer  relied  on  the  promise — poison  will  not  kill 
you — and  suffice  it  to  say,  we  had  a  good  meeting. 
The  people  seemed  well  pleased  to  see  me,  and  I 
thanked  God  and  took  courage. 

When  I  went  on  that  work  with  Brother  Walter, 
it  was  four  months  till  conference.  In  that  time 
we  received  over  one  hundred  into  the  Church,  most 
of  them  happily  converted.  Brother  Walter  was 
quite  a  revivalist.  The  head  of  Platte,  in  Clifton's 
settlement,  and  Fenimore  were  the  best  works. 
We  began  a  meeting  at  Franklin,  a  mining  town. 
After  a  week's  time,  some  difficulties  arose  in  the 
place,  and  Brother  Walter  said  we  had  better  quit ; 
but  I  was  to  stay  another  day.  The  school-house 
had  been  crowded,  and  a  certain  young  man  took  a 
chair  to  have  a  seat.  A  rowdy  fellow  said:  "  What 
are  you  going  to  do  with  your  chair?"  He  re- 
plied: "  I  am  going  to  the  mourner's  bench."  He 
answered :  "  I  will  bet  you  a  quarter."  Jim  as  read- 
ily replied:  "I  will  stand  you;"  and  they  put  up 
the  money.  Sure  enough,  when  the  call  was  made, 
up  he  came  with  others;  but  we  were  none  the 
wiser  of  his  object.  The  next  day  the  saloon- 
keepers had  their  fun.  A  friend  told  me  of  the  sit- 
uation. We  had  the  appointment  given  out  for  the 
evening,  and  I  was  prepared  as  well  as  possible, 
and  did  not  think  he  could  hurt  me  while  I  was  in 
the  line  of  duty.  When  the  time  came  to  call 
seekers,  I  spoke  of  the  meanness  of  any  man  that 


46  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

would  come  on  the  bet  of  a  quarter ;  such  a  crea- 
ture would  sell  his  soul  for  a  sixpence,  spend  it  for 
whisky,  and  go  to  the  devil  at  last.  But  several 
came,  and  the  same  fellow  came  again,  of  course, 
for  he  had  money  at  stake.  I  said :  "  Sing  a  verse." 
At  the  close,  the  preacher  stepped  up  to  Jim, 
slipped  -his  hand  in  his  collar,  and  said :  "  You  came 
here  last  night  on  the  bet  of  a  quarter."  He  re- 
plied: "But  I  did  not  spend  it  for  whisky." 
"  Well,"  said  the  preacher,  "  I  believe  that  is  your 
business,"  and  pulled  him  up,  and  said:  "You  put 
for  the  door,  or  I  will  put  you  out  at  the  window." 
The  fellow  said:  "You  asked' me  here  for  prayers, 
and  I  want  you  to  pray  for  me."  The  preacher 
said:  "You  must  pray  for  yourself."  "I  can't 
pray."  "But  you  must,  I  will  teach  you;  say,  God 
have  mercy  on  me,  a  sinner."  By  a  little  squeez- 
ing of  his  neck,  he  was  induced  to  say  the  prayer, 
but  spoke  very  low.  He  was  asked  to  pray  louder, 
and  said  his  prayer  so  that  all  in  the  house  could 
hear.  He  did  not  cease  till  we  closed. 

The  house  was  crowded ;  but  while  the  above 
scene  was  passing,  you  might  have  heard  a  pin 
drop.  That  fellow  never  troubled  us  again,  and  a 
talk  was  given  on  the  principle  of  such  a  course. 
The  man  who  bet  with  him,  came  and  apologized 
to  the  preacher,  and  promised  to  do  so  no  more. 
Some  good  was  done.  The  writer  was  pastor  a 
year  after  that,  and  never  again  was  intruded  upon 
by  rowdies.  This  was  the  spring  of  1851.  After 
about  four  months  as  a  supply,  the  quarterly  con- 
ference proposed  to  recommend  me  as  a  suitable 


CONVERSION.  47 

person  for  the  traveling  connection.  On  account 
of  my  age  and  the  circumstances  that  surrounded 
me,  I  felt  quite  safe  in  the  thought  that  the  con- 
ference would  not  take  me.  Their  decision  I  would 
accept  as  settling  the  whole  question.  I  had  but 
one  request  to  make  the  presiding  elder — not  for 
a  good  appointment — but,  if  I  was  received,  not 
to  send  me  away  from  where  I  was  acquainted. 
But,  to  my  surprise,  I  was  admitted  into  the  Wis- 
consin Conference  and  appointed  to  Elk  Grove 
Circuit,  a  part  of  it  in  the  same  county,  Platte- 
ville  District — my  old  friend,  Blmore  Yocum,  pre- 
siding elder. 


4#  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

CHAPTER  III. 

ADMITTED  TO  CONFERENCE. 

I  WAS  the  first  admitted  of  the  class  of  twenty- 
three,  in  the  year  1851,  at  Waukesha,  and  I 
thought  it  would  have  been  more  appropriate  for 
me  to  have  been  at  the  other  end.  The  next  Sab- 
bath I  was  on  my  work.  Found  about  ninety 
members  and  probationers.  Brother  Samuel  Leon- 
ard had  preceded  me.  We  had  eight  appointments 
on  the  two  weeks'  circuit,  three  on  each  Sunday, 
all  kept  up.  We  had  three  good  revivals,  not  by 
might  nor  by  power,  but  by  the  Spirit  of  God. 
During  the  year  we  doubled  our  numbers  with  con- 
verts. We  had  one  camp-meeting,  which  I  shall 
not  forget.  •  E.  Yocum,  A.  Brunson,  and  Brother 
Fraser,  a  good  local  preacher,  did  most  of  the 
preaching. 

During  the  progress  of  the  meeting  we  had 
some  rain;  but  at  Potosi,  where  my  divorced 
woman  lived,  a  cloud  burst  at  the  head  of  Snake 
Hollow,  causing  a  flood  to  do  much  damage. 
She,  being  alone,  was  alarmed;  ran  to  a  near 
neighbor's,  and  it  was  thought  that,  on  her  return, 
some  drift-wood  caught  her;  for  in  the  morning 
she  was  found  in  a  drift,  one-quarter  of  a  mile  be- 
low. Poor,  unfortunate  woman!  if  she  had  re- 
mained in  her  house,  the  sad  occurrence  would  not 
have  happened.  She  was  the  only  one  drowned. 


ADMITTED  TO  CONFERENCE.  49 

This  was  a  year  of  hard  work ;  but  it  paid  well 
spiritually,  both  for  myself  and  the  Church.  I  had 
many  good  friends ;  but  as  I  was  well  known,  and 
had  some  interest  in  the  mines,  they  thought  the 
preacher  was  rich.  I  received  a  single  man's 
quarterage — one  hundred  dollars — with  four  chil- 
dren and  sister  Rachel  to  provide  for;  about 
half  enough  to  keep  us.  Elias,  my  second  son, 
was  taken  with  white  -  swelling,  which  made 
him  a  cripple  for  life.  Doctor's  bills  and  all, 
three  hundred  dollars  to  square  accounts  it  took 
for  the  year,  over  and  above  all  I  got  on  the 
charge. 

Our  Conference  this  year  was  held  at  Fond  du  lac. 
I  passed  the  first  year's  study,  and  was  continued 
on  trial,  and  appointed  to  Franklin  and  Wingville 
Circuit,  where  I  had  been  a  supply,  to  help  Brother 
A.  H.  Walter.  Found  good  friends  there,  who  had 
borne  with  me  two  years  before.  Among  others, 
there  was  an  old  Brother  Lincoln.  He  would 
shout  at  meeting  or  »at  work.  Rev.  S.  C. 
Thomas,  presiding  elder,  came  to  the  charge  to 
hold  quarterly  meeting.  Brother  Lincoln  would 
say,  "Glory!"  as  the  service  went  on.  The  new 
presiding  elder  stopped,  and  said :  "If  that  brother 
can  refrain  from  shouting,  I  would  be  glad;  but 
if  he  can  't,  let  him  shout."  The  brother  said, 
"  Glory  to  God  for  the  privilege  of  shouting;"  and 
of  course  he  made  use  of  his  privilege.  He 
was  a  good  blacksmith,  and  every  time  he  laid 
down  the  hammer  he  would  say,  "Glory!"  On 
one  occasion,  a  man  brought  a  bad  horse  to  be 

5 


50  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

shod.  The  horse  had  been  tried  and  given  up. 
He  swore  he  would  take  him  to  old  Lincoln. 
Lincoln  knew  nothing  of  the  horse's  wickedness, 
took  hold  of  his  foot,  and  was  thrown  a  somer- 
sault on  some  old  irons  in  the  corner  of  his  shop. 
He  jumped  up,  clapped  his  hands,  and  said,  "  Glory 
to  God!  he  didn't  hurt  me  a  bit!"  and  took  up 
the  horse's  foot,  and  shod  him.  The  wicked  man 
said  Lincoln  had  a  right  to  shout  as  much  as  he 
pleased.  I  noticed  his  obituary;  his  last  word 
was  a  shout  of  " Glory!" 

Brother  Henry  Wood  preceded  me  here,  a 
conference  classmate,  a  good  man  and  true.  He 
has  since  passed  to  his  reward. 

We  had  revivals  at  several  points  on  this  cir- 
cuit ;  the  largest  at  Newman's  Mills,  in  a  stone 
school-house.  After  it  was  over,  I  remembered  a 
dream  I  had  some  time  before.  In  my  vision  I 
was  fishing,  saw  quite  a  school  of  fish,  and  had 
them  in  close  quarters.  At  first  I  could  not  catch 
any,  but  finally  succeeded  in  making  a  large  haul. 
I  held  meetings  for  two  weeks  ;  no  one  would 
make  a  start,  although  the  house  was  crowded 
every  night.  I  did  my  very  best,  but  at  the  end 
of  two  weeks  I  knew  not  what  to  do.  After  we 
had  a  few  prayers,  I  concluded  to  divide  the  house. 
The  stove  was  in  the  middle.  I  talked  a  little, 
and  told  the  singer,  Thomas  Kirkpatrick,  to  select 
a  hymn.  I  then  proposed  to  divide  the  house ; 
all  that  were  trying  to  serve  God,  and  any  that 
would  seek  the  salvation  of  their  souls,  to  come  to 
the  front;  and  all  that  were  careless  and  wicked 


ADMITTED  TO  CONFERENCE.  51 

to  take  the  other  end.  It  seemed  they  were 
mixed.  Both  sides  started,  and  they  passed  each 
other.  It  was  a  solemn  scene,  a  comment  on  the 
great  day  and  the  final  separation,  every  man 
taking  his  place  in  heaven  or  hell.  I  gave  out 
meeting  for  the  next  night,  and  dismissed  the  con- 
gregation. God  worked  meantime,  and  when  the 
invitation  was  next  given,  fifteen  came  at  once, 
and  within  a  few  days  over  forty.  It  was  what 
we  called  a  good  meeting.  Some  hard  cases  were 
converted  and  joined  the  Church. 

We  visited  an  old  man  and  his  wife.  They 
had  been  members  long  before,  but  were  careless. 
The  man  was  honest;  said  he  knew  when  the 
Spirit  left  him,  and  after  that  had  never  felt  con- 
cerned for  the  salvation  of  his  soul ;  was  alto- 
gether without  feeling  on  the  subject.  I  asked  to 
pray  with  them.  They  had  two  farms.  The  man 
said:  "This  place  belongs  to  the  old  lady.  I 
have  nothing  to  say."  The  old  lady  said:  "You 
know  this  is  your  house  as  much  as  it  ever  was." 
He  said  he  did  not  control  it;  and  both  cared 
so  little  that  they  would  not  say  they  were  willing, 
only:  "You  can  do  as  you  please."  I  said:  "Let 
us  pray."  They  were  quiet,  but  the  old  man  did 
not  quit  smoking  his  old  pipe.  I  asked  them  to 
come  to  meeting,  but  neither  promised  to  come. 
I  left  them  to  do  as  they  pleased. 

I  saw  the  fulfillment  of  my  dream.  It  was 
very  hard  to  get  the  work  started ;  but  when  the 
penitents  came,  it  was  all  at  once.  We  had  nearly 
one  hundred  conversions  on  the  circuit  that  year. 


52  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 


Our  conference  in  1853  was  ^e^  by  Bishop 
Scott  at  the  town  of  Baraboo.  Quite  a  pleasant 
session.  All  of  our  class  present  were  admitted. 
There  was  a  camp-meeting  of  some  interest,  held 
at  the  time  of  the  conference,  a  half  mile  out  of 
town.  Chauncey  Hobart  was  to  preach  the  mis- 
sionary sermon.  I  fell  in  with  him  on  the  way 
out,  and  he  was  shaking  like  an  aspen-leaf.  I 
asked  why  he  was  so  nervous,  as  he  was  ac- 
customed to  preaching.  "O,"  he  said,  "it  is 
easier  to  get  a  reputation  than  to  keep  it."  He 
was  a  six-footer,  and  when  he  began  to  speak,  it 
seemed  to  me  he  twisted  down  a  little  ;  but  began 
to  rise  as  he  proceeded,  and  before,  or  at  the  close, 
his  length  was  all  there,  and,  in  addition,  his 
long  arms  reaching  up  toward  heaven,  having  the 
full  attention  of  the  whole  camp-meeting,  and  of 
the  conference  in  the  bargain.  He  was  sick,  and 
not  able  to  leave  when  the  preachers  left.  I  have 
always  thought  that  it  was  the  overstraining  of 
his  nerves  and  the  labor  of  delivering  that  sermon 
that  caused  his  sickness,  and  detained  him  for  sev- 
eral days. 

I  received  my  appointment  at  the  above  ses- 
sion to  Fayette  Circuit,  with  Brother  B.  Crist  as 
colleague.  It  was  a  large  four  weeks'  circuit.  We 
had  a  pleasant  year  working  together;  enlarged 
the  circuit,  had  a  good  revival  at  Willow  Springs, 
and  some  interest  at  other  points.  Had  a  good 
camp-meeting.  Rev.  S.  C.  Thomas,  our  presiding 
elder,  with  Brother  Haughawout  and  others,  were 
on  the  ground. 


ADMITTED  TO  CONFERENCE.  53 

It  seemed  that  we  had  more  than  our  share  of 
difficulties  to  settle ;  and,  in  addition,  in  the  winter 
the  small-pox  broke  out  at  Centerville  in  one  of 
our  best  societies,  and  two  members  died.  We 
could  have  no  services  for  months.  Then  the 
cholera  broke  out  in  August  and  September,  in 
different  places  on  the  work,  and  cut  off  nearly 
twenty.  This  cast  a  gloom  and  fear  over  almost 
all  classes  of  people.  At  Wiota,  all  of  one 
family  died,  and  the  neighbors  got  together  and 
burnt  the  house  with  the  dead  bodies  in  it.  This 
was  before  the  days  of  cremation,  so  far  as  I  know, 
or  it  would  not  have  looked  so  horrible.  In  cases 
of  burial,  it  seemed  that  the  people  thought  the 
bodies  could  not  be  interred  soon  enough  after 
death,  and  it  was  doubtful  if  some  were  not  buried 
alive.  At  Fayette,  where  we  lived,  three  of  one 
family  died ;  only  one  little  girl  was  left. 

Brother  and  Sister  Benson,  both  members  of 
our  Church,  were  called  away.  The  mother  was 
taken  first.  I  visited  her.  She  was  in  extreme 
pain,  but  was  resigned  to  the  will  of  God.  In 
twenty-four  hours  she  died.  I  was  with  her  to  the 
last.  It  was  warm  weather,  and  at  nine  o'clock  in 
the  evening  we  sent  out  for  help,  as  she  was  a 
large  woman.  Only  Aunt  Polly  Journey  came.  My 
sister  was  at  home  with  my  sick  daughter,  and  I 
sent  for  her.  Nathan  Woodberry  also  came,  and 
as  the  bedroom  was  too  small,  we  carried  the 
corpse  out  in  front  of  the  house,  and  laid  her  out. 
Two  or  three  had  been  dispatched  to  dig  the  grave. 
Her  husband  had  sent  to  have^i  coffin,  as  he  feared 


54  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

the  people  would  want  to  bury  her  without  one. 
But  he  need  not  have  feared,  for  scarcely  one 
could  be  got  near  the  house.  Mr.  Woodberry  got 
a  wagon  and  team,  and  we  went  a  half  mile  for 
the  coffin.  It  was  not  quite  done.  This  was 
Monday  night,  and  I  tried  to  preach  three  times 
the  day  before.  I  lay  down  in  the, shavings  and 
slept  till  the  coffin  was  done,  when  I  was  awaked 
and  ready  for  service.  About  day-break  there 
were  just  enough  of  us  to  perform  the  burial  of 
the  poor  woman  so  suddenly  called  to  death.  Just 
before  she  breathed  her  last,  the  little  boy  was 
taken  down,  and  within  twenty-four  hours  he  was 
buried.  I  was  not  there,  as  I  had  been  called  to 
attend  a  funeral. 

On  the  next  Monday  I  was  sent  for,  to  go  ancl 
see  Brother  Benson.  He  was  at  his  brother-in- 
law's,  one  and  a  half  miles  away,  down  in  the  tim- 
ber, and  had  the  cholera.  I  carried  him  some 
medicine,  as  the  doctor  could  not  go.  We  worked 
over  him  all  day  till  about  dark.  His  brother-in- 
law  and  I  were  the  only  ones  to  attend  on  him. 
We  tried  to  encourage  him,  but  he  seemed  to  ex- 
pect to  die.  He  suffered  intensely,  and  about 
dark  breathed  his  last.  His  brother-in-law  said : 
"You  are  older  than  I;  you  must  stay,  and  I  will 
go  for  help."  He  went  to  the  village,  and  no  one 
would  go ;  all  prayed  to  be  excused.  Sister  Nancy 
Smith,  a  good  and  brave  woman,  said  if  the  men 
would  not  go,  she  would  raise  some  women  to  go. 
This  stirred  two  men  to  go  with  Woodberry.  By 
the  time  they  got  the  coffin  it  was  dark. 


ADMITTED  TO  CONFERENCE.  55 

It  was  a  rainy  night,  with  thunder  rumbling. 
I  was  left  to  myself,  and  laid  him  out  as  best  I 
could ;  wrapped  Ijim  in  a  sheet,  and  sat  down  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  room,  musing  all  alone.  Just 
then  he  began  to  move  his  hands  and  one  foot. 
I  went  to  him  and  spoke  to  him,  but  he  was  dead ; 
the  cramp  worked  on  his  nerves.  He  moved  one 
hand  up  to  his  shoulder,  and  the  other  downward; 
raised  one  knee  six  inches.  His  limbs  could  not 
be  moved  any  more.  All  the  light  we  had  was  a 
little  old  tin  lamp — hog's-lard  for  oil — and  that 
almost  gone.  I  could  find  no  more  about  the 
house,  and  the  light  was  not  larger  than  a  man's 
finger-nail.  As  it  was  after  midnight,  I  looked  up 
toward  the  road.  It  was  raining,  but  presently  I 
saw  a  light  coming,  and  sat  down  to  see  how  they 
would  proceed,  when  they  drove  up  to  the  door, 
which  was  open.  One  of  them  said:  "I  guess 
Brother  Dyer  is  gone."  I  stepped  to  the  door,  and 
spoke.  They  seemed  much  relieved,  came  in,  and 
asked  me  what  we  had  better  do.  There  were 
men  digging  the  grave.  I  told  them  I  did  not 
wish  to  bury  him  so  soon,  nor  in  the  night.  He 
had  been  moving  since  we  thought  him  gone.  We 
put  the  corpse  into  the  coffin,  and  laid  the  cover 
over  all  but  his  face ;  then  we  went  home  and  slept. 
In  the  morning  I  took  my  horse  and  buggy,  and 
asked  several  to  go  with  me,  but  without  success. 
At  last  we  met  Brother  Horace  Woodworth,  a 
Free-will  Baptist  preacher,  and  he  did  not  refuse. 
He  and  Brother  John  Ethridge,  and  Brother  John 
Roberts,  took  the  corpse  in  their  wagon,  and 


56  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

buried  it  in  daytime  beside  his  wife  and  child, 
assured  that  they  were  safely  landed  together  in 
the  heavenly  home,  to  die  no  more. 

I  would  say  just  here,  that  I  had  always  been 
afraid  of  the  cholera  till  it  came  where  I  was ;  but 
then  I  could  discharge  any  duty  that  I  was  called 
to  perform  without  any  fear  whatever.  On  the 
night  referred  to  above,  the  man  that  was  with 
me  took  asafetida  about  as  thick  as  cream  every 
little  bit,  and  offered  it  to  me;  but  I  told  him  I 
dreaded  it  as  much  as  the  cholera.  I  felt,  and 
still  feel,  great  thankfulness  to  God  for  his  sus- 
taining grace. 

During  this  year  we  had  three  appointments 
for  each  Sunday.  I  was  called  on  to  preach  at  a 
funeral  on  Sunday  morning.  It  was  not  in  the 
direction  of  either  of  the  services.  The  messen- 
ger said  they  wanted  it  early.  I  told  him  if  they 
could  meet  me  at  their  school-house  at  nine 
o'clock,  I  would  be  there.  This  would  enable  me 
to  get  to  my  appointment  at  Fayette  at  eleven,  a 
six  miles'  ride.  They  were  all  on  hand,  and  we 
were  not  long  preaching  the  child,  through  the 
great  atonement  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  to  eter- 
nal rest,  and  in  giving  the  parents  and  weeping 
friends  a  warm  exhortation  to  be  sure  to  meet  it 
in  heaven.  At  half-past  two  o'clock  I  preached 
at  Vanmeter's,  and  at  half-past  five  at  Yellow- 
stone, near  Brother  G.  Hall's.  I  went  home  with 
Brother  Robert  and  family  for  the  night,  and  we 
all  slept  so  soundly  that  a  thief  got  in  through 
the  kitchen  window,  and  stole  brother's  gold  watch 


ADMITTED  TO  CONFERENCE.  57 

and  chain,  a  few  dollars  in  change,  about  sixty 
dollars'  worth  of  silver- ware,  and,  to  cap  the  whole, 
took  my  boots,  the  finest  pair  I  ever  had  made — 
French  calf-skin.  I  could  get  nothing  to  wear 
home  but  a  pair  of  buckskin  moccasins.  We 
closed  up  the  year  satisfactorily  to  the  most  of  our 
leading  members,  and  considerably  enlarged  our 
circuit. 

Our  conference  was  held  this  year,  1854,  at 
Janesville.  Bishop  Morris  presided.  We  had  a 
pleasant  time.  The  old  Fayette  Circuit  was  di- 
vided, and  the  southern  part  formed  into  the  Wiota 
or  State  Line  Mission.  I  was  appointed  there,  and 
lived  at  Wiota.  The  circuit  extended  down  the 
Picatonica  River  some  ten  miles. 

About  the  first  of  the  year  my  horse  got  away, 
and  I  was  inquiring  after  him,  and  night  came  on. 
WTent  to  a  house,  and  they  sent  me  to  a  local 
preacher's.  I  asked  to  stop.  He  said  they  had  no 
accommodations.  Brother  Ed.  RusselL  was  with 
me.  I  told  him  we  could  sleep  on  the  floor,  or 
put  up  with  any  sort  of  fare.  He  still  persisted. 
So  we  had  to  plod  our  way  four  miles  through  the 
dark  to  Winslow.  He  did  not  ask  my  name,  and 
I  did  not  tell  him.  We  went  off  singing  a  hymn. 
When  he  found  out  who  we  were  he  never  forgave 
himself.  I  thought  I  would  teach  him  not  to  turn 
away  strangers.  We  found  the  horse,  and  got 
home,  and  made  or  formed  the  circuit.  There  had 
scarcely  ever  been  a  preacher  over  most  of  our 
work. 

Many  of  the  people  were,  or  thought  they  were, 


58  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

infidels.  Of  course  they  were  practically  without 
Christianity.  We  took  in  the  town  of  Gratiot,  a 
small  place,  where  they  were  nearly  all  professed 
infidels.  They  had  a  neat  little  school-house. 
The  first  time  we  had  service,  there  were  twenty- 
five  or  thirty  in  attendance.  The  preacher  was  a 
stranger.  After  we  closed,  one  whom  we  will  call 

Mr.  C ,   stepped   up   and   introduced   himself, 

and  invited  me  to  his  house ;  said  I  would  be  wel- 
come to  such  as  he  had,  for  which  I  thanked  him. 
I  can  not  afford  to  lose  the  incident,  and  do  not 
wish  to  give  any  offense,  as  this  was  the  beginning 
of  a  social  acquaintance.  We  could  not  agree  as 
to  the  Bible  and  religion;  but  I  retain  a  warm  re- 
gard for  him  and  his  family,  and  my  prayer  is  that 
God  will  yet  save  him  and  his.  When  I  called 
he  wanted  to  feed  me,  but  would  have  no  blessing 
nor  prayer  at  his  house.  He  had  a  large  table, 
and  stood  at  the  end,  talking  incessantly,  and 
carved  and  helped  our  plates.  By  this  time  I 
concluded  to  say  nothing.  After  supper  he  talked 
infidelity,  got  the  folks  almost  all  to  bed,  then 
politely  offered  to  light  me  to  bed.  Next  morning 
at  breakfast  it  was  the  same  way.  When  I  left  he 
asked  me  back. 

Some  time  after  this  we  had  a  two  days'  meet- 
ing. Brother  L,awson,  a  local  preacher,  was  with 
me.  On  Sunday,  after  service,  we  both  went  to 
take  dinner,  but  no  place  for  a  blessing.  He  was 
very  pleasant.  I  had  to  go  in  the  evening  to 
Chapman's  school-house  to  fill  an  appointment. 
When  I  was  about  ready  to  go,  I  said,  "  Mr.  C , 


ADMITTED  TO  CONFERENCE.  59 

I  have  partaken  of  your  hospitality,  and  as  there 
has  been  no  opportunity  to  pray,  if  you  will  per- 
mit me  to  pray  before  we  part,  I  will  feel  grate- 
ful." "  Well,  Mr.  Dyer,  I  have  said  there  should 
be  no  praying  in  my  house."  "I  can't  help  that; 
I  felt  it  my  duty  to  ask  you,  and  I  wish  the  priv- 
ilege." "It  won't  do  any  good;  things  will  go  on 
just  the  same ;  but  if  my  friends  are  willing,  I  will 
not  object."  A  neighbor  was  in,  his  mother-in- 
law,  an  old  woman,  and  the  hired  girl.  His  wife 
told  her  to  call  in  the  children  and  shut  the  outer 
door,  but  not  the  partition  door,  for  that  would 
make  too  close  quarters.  That  done,  I  knelt  and 
prayed  with  the  family,  and  I  think  that  all  felt 
better.  The  next  time  I  came  he  requested  me 
to  ask  a  blessing,  and  we  had  prayer,  and  passed 
the  year  the  best  of  friends.  When  the  new 
preacher  came  on,  he  introduced  himself  to  him, 
and  invited  him  to  come  to  his  house,  but  added : 
"I  don't  want  any  prayer;  when  Mr.  Dyer  was 
here  he  prayed,  and  they  got  it  all  around  that  I 
was  converted."  I  hope  he  has  been  before  this, 
for  I  desire  to  meet  him  in  heaven. 

I  was  deeply  exercised  and  earnestly  prayed 
for  helj),  and  to  be  guided  by  the  Spirit  of  God. 
1  Sout  the  first  of  December,  1854,  while  commit- 
ting myself  to  God  for  success,  I  dreamed  I  was 
fishing  with  a  seine,  in  company  with  others.  We 
caught  fish,  and  divided  them  into  piles.  I  thought 
I  got  a  good  string  of  them ;  but  when  I  got  the 
last  one,  it  was  so  large  that  it  reached  down  and 
covered  all  the  rest.  A  Baptist  preacher  preached 


60  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

every  other  Sunday,  and  a  Primitive  Methodist 
preached  occasionally,  and  I  in  the  evening.  But 
the  Baptist  preacher  made  fun  of  a  Methodist  re- 
vival, and  the  other  engaged  elsewhere ;  so  I  went 
it  alone  the  first  week,  and  was  having  some  stir 
among  the  dry  bones.  The  Baptist  preacher  came 
and  seemed  pleased,  and  was  evidently  uneasy, 
for  we  had  two  converts  of  Baptist  families.  He 
helped,  and  the  meeting  resulted  in  thirty  conver- 
sions; and  when  we  came  to  divide  the  converts,  I 
took  in  eighteen  at  nearly  the  close,  and  the  others 
got  seven.  Still  there  were  three  that  had  not  come 
in.  They  were  beset  in  almost  every  way  to  join 
the  Baptists;  but,  on  the  eve  of  closing,  Brother 
Chapman  asked  me  if  I  was  not  going  to  give  an- 
other chance  to  join  the  Church.  "  Yes,"  I  replied, 
"if  I  thought  any  one  wanted  to  come  in."  He 
said  there  had  been  quite  a  desire  to  have  him  join 
one  of  the  other  Churches,  but  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  from  the  first  to  join  the  Methodist,  but  had 
put  it  off  for  fear  it  might  check  the  progress  of  the 
meeting.  But  now  he  and  his  family  would  join, 
if  we  would  take  them.  When  I  got  him  on  the 
string,  I  thought  of  my  dream.  This  was  a  most 
gracious  revival.  To  God  be  all  the  glory.  Brother 
Chapman  had  found  fault  because  we  made  too 
much  noise,  or  preached  too  loud. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  week  I  took  Sister  Rachel 
to  be  with  us  Sunday,  and  went  to  stay  over  night 
with  him.  Before  retiring,  he  laid  the  Bible  down, 
and  said:  "You  read  and  let  your  sister  pray;  she 
do  n't  pray  quite  so  loud  as  you  do."  This  was 


ADMITTED  TO  CONFERENCE.  61 

before  he  had  made  a  start  to  seek  his  soul's  salva- 
tion ;  but  when,  a  few  evenings  after,  he  came  late 
with  Mr.  Richardson,  and  stood  at  the  door,  the 
invitation  for  seekers  being  given,  be  said  audibly : 
"  Richardson,  let 's  go."  Richardson  said  he  would 
not.  "Well,  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  go." 
The  crowd  gave  way,  and  he  never  stopped  till  he 
reached  the  stand.  He  prayed  loud  and  strong, 
till  God  in  mercy  met  him ;  and  as  soon  as  he  felt 
the  burden  of  his  sins  was  gone,  the  love  of  Christ 
filled  his  soul,  and  he  exclaimed,  "Hallelujah!" 
like  rumbling  thunder.  Let  me  say,  it  was  a 
quiet  meeting  till  then.  Chapman  honored  God 
and  his  cause  as  long  as  I  knew  him,  and  was  one 
of  the  most  consistent  shouters,  at  home  and 
everywhere,  I  ever  knew;  and  if  I  am  so  blessed 
as  to  reach  heaven,  I  will  hear  him  in  glory. 
Bless  God  for  the  prospect !  There  was  a  Brother 
Fleharty  here,  who  had  been  an  early  settler  in 
Wisconsin,  and  had  exercised  his  talent  as  a  local 
preacher,  and  was  very  useful  and  devotedly  pious 
for  a  number  of  years,  but  for  some  cause  had 
ceased  to  preach,  settled  here,  and  had  no  connec- 
tion with  the  Church.  He  liked  to  have  me  come 
and  stay  with  him.  He  attended  our  services,  and 
his  youngest  son,  a  young  man,  professed  religion 
and  joined  the  Church;  with  which  he  was  well 
pleased. 

He  related  an  example  of  answer  to  prayer. 
Being  acquainted  with  both  of  the  parties,  I  re- 
lated it  to  my  family  at  home,  and  my  "second  son, 
E.  F.  Dyer  (about  fifteen  years  old),  laid  up  with 


62  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

white-swelling,  wrote  the  account  for  the  papers, 
as  follows: 

In  the  early  settlement  of  Southern  Wisconsin,  a 

certain  Brother  F settled  in  the  mining  district, 

on  the  head-waters  of  Platte  River,  and  proceeded 
to  erect  a  mill ;  during  the  erection  of  which,  he 
became  somewhat  pressed  in  money  matters,  and 
concluded  to  use  twenty  dollars  that  had  been 
placed  in  his  hands  by  a  blind  man  for  safe-keep- 
ing. He  thought,  certainly,  "I  can  raise  twenty 
dollars  at  any  time  on  a  short  notice;"  but  the 
money  was  called  for  very  unexpectedly,  and  was 
wanted  on  a  certain  day,  as  the  owner  was  going 

to  leave  the  country.  Brother  F went  around 

among  the  neighbors  to  try  and  borrow  the 
amount;  but  the  old  adage,  "He  that  goeth  bor- 
rowing, goeth  sorrowing,"  was  verified  in  this,  and 
he  returned  home  much  dejected;  for  he  was  a 
class-leader  and  steward  in  the  Church,  and  thought, 
what  would  the  world  say  to  his  keeping  back  the 
poor  man's  money?  He  felt  that  it  would  be  a 
disgrace  to  himself,  to  the  Church,  and  would  be 
a  hindrance  to  the  cause  of  the  Redeemer. 

The  time  had  all  passed  but  one  day,  and  that 
was  Sunday.  The  morning  of  that  day  had  come, 
but  no  relief  came  to  his  burdened  mind;  there 
was  scarcely  a  hope  left.  He  knew  not  what  to  do ; 
but  a  thought  came  to  his  mind  that  he  ought  to 
pray  for  help.  He  had  not  thought  of  this  before ; 
but  now  he  went  down  to  the  further  side  of  the 
garden  frofh  the  house,  and  there  kneeled  down, 
and  prayed  to  that  God  who  had  so  often  be- 


ADMITTED  TO  CONFERENCE.  63 

friended  and  delivered  from  spiritual  trouble,  to 
open  up  a  way  for  his  escape  out  of  this  dilemma, 
and  to  send  relief,  that  the  cause  of  religion  might 
remain  untarnished.  As  he  proceeded  in  supplica- 
tion to  God,  he  waxed  warmer  and  warmer;  the 
spirit  of  prayer  came  mightily  upon  him,  faith 
took  a  firm  hold  on  the  Almighty,  and  the  answer 
came,  the  mind  was  set  at  liberty,  and  the  soul  felt 
shouting  happy.  Full  of  confidence  in  Him  whom 
he  trusted,  he  went  home,  sat  down  on  the  door-step, 
and,  looking  up,  saw  a  man  coming  over  the  hill 
toward  which  the  door  faced.  As  he  drew  nearer, 
he  was  recognized  as  a  brother  in  the  Church. 

He  had  been  to  the  village  of  P ,  and  was 

now  returning  home;   he  drew  near  and  spoke  to 

F ,  who  invited  him  to  walk  into  the  house. 

The  invitation  was  declined ;  but  said  he :  "I  would 
like  to  have  a  few  moments'  private  conversation 
with  you;  come,  and  walk  along  with  me  a  short 

distance."     F rose  up  and  they  went  together 

down  by  the  garden.  Just  as  they  reached  the  spot 
where  he  had  been  praying  and  wrestling  so  hard, 

Brother  B said :  "As  I  came  to  the  forks  of  the 

road,  upon  the  hill  there,  I  felt  it  impressed  on  my 
mind  that  you  were  in  need  of  a  little  pecuniary 
aid ;  and  I  thought  I  would  just  call  by  and  see." 
Now  it  was  just  the  same  time  (as  near  as  could  be 

calculated),  when  F received  the  answer  to  his 

prayer,  that  good  Brother  B was  at  the  forks 

of  the  road.  The  result  was,  he  received  enough 
from  his  friend  to  cancel  the  debt,  and  have  a  six- 
pence over. 


64  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

I  will  give  an  incident  in  my  visiting,  for  it  was 
my  custom  to  visit  every  family  within  two  or  three 
miles  of  my  appointments ;  and,  as  all  were  strangers 
to  me,  my  constant  prayer  was  that  God  would 
make  me  useful  at  every  house.  I  called  on  Mr. — 
no  matter:  I  found  him  and  one  of  his  friends  in 
consultation ;  told  him  who  I  was  and  what  my 
errand  was.  He  said  he  would  not  say  whether  he 
believed  the  Bible  or  not;  but  his  friend  did  not 
claim  to  believe  it.  I  talked  morality  and  religion 
to  them,  and  was  about  to  go  away,  but  said  I 
would  like  to  have  prayer  with  him  and  family 
before  I  left.  He  positively  said  he  would  have 
no  prayers  in  his  house,  and  I  was  just  on  the  eve 
of  starting,  when  his  wife  opened  the  door  and 
said  dinner  was  ready.  He  invited  me  to  take 
dinner  with  him.  He  was  a  Virginian,  and  I  knew 

their  hospitality,  and  said:  "Mr.  M ,  I  could 

not  eat  with  a  man  that  would  not  let  me  pray 
with  him  when  I  had  asked  the  privilege."  He  in- 
sisted. I  told  him  if  he  would  have  prayer  first, 
I  would  eat  with  him.  He  said  to  his  wife:  "Had 
we  better  have  prayer?"  She  replied:  "Cer- 
tainly." "Well,  then,  call  in  the  children;"  and 
I  both  prayed  and  ate  my  dinner  with  them  ;  in- 
vited them  and  they  came  to  meeting,  and  his 
wife  was  forward  for  prayers. 

Another  remarkable  incident  occurred.  There 
was  a  Mr.  S ,  who  lived  in  sight  of  the  school- 
house.  At  first  he  seemed  to  be  interested  in  the 
meetings,  but  ceased  to  attend.  We  went  to  see 
him,  but  he  would  have  no  prayers,  and  said  to 


ADMITTED  TO  CONFERENCE.  65 

me  it  would  be  time  enough  for  him  to  pray  when 
he  got  sick.  I  spoke  of  the  danger  of  such  a 
resolution  as  that.  He  was  in  good  health,  and 
working  at  a  well.  He  was  a  young  man  with  a 
family.  The  meeting  closed  just  one  week  after. 
As  I  reached  the  neighborhood  on  my  next  round, 
I  saw  a  company  at  the  cemetery,  but  could  not 
think  who  was  dead,  as  all  had  been  well  the 

week   before.     But  it  was  Mr.  S .     He   had 

been  sick  only  four  days.  I  understood  he  prayed, 
but  did  not  hear  that  he  got  any  answer  to 
prayer.  O,  what  a  warning  to  all  that  defer  re- 
pentance till  sickness  comes!  God  alone  can  tell 
the  results  of  this  meeting.  It  was  his  work.  I 
am  only  glad  to  have  been  a  humble  instrument. 

This  was  a  hard  year.  We  had  opposition 
from  many  that  called  themselves  Come-outers,  the 
followers  of  Foster  and  Abby  Kelly,  at  New  Lime, 
Ohio.  We  took  in  about  seventy-five  on  proba- 
tion. In  September  we  had  a  camp-meeting  that 
I  have  not  forgotten.  Some  good  was  done. 
Many  of  the  baser  sort  came  to  mock  and  make 
disturbance.  While  I  was  holding  a  prayer-meet- 
ing, and  some  seekers  were  at  the  altar,  a  brother 
pulled  me  by  the  shoulders,  and  told  me  that  the 
rowdies  were  breaking  the  lumber  that  we  had  for 
seats.  Among  them  I  saw  a  large  man  at  the 
root  of  a  tree,  crowing  like  a  rooster.  I  took  a 
candle  in  my  right  hand  and  held  it  above  my 
head,  and  made  for  the  mocker.  He  walked  back 
of  the  tents,  and  as  he  walked,  pulled  off  his  coat. 
I  said,  "My  honey,  I  see  you." 


66  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

By  this  time  he  was  crossing  a  hollow,  and  by 
the  time  I  was  at  the  bottom  of  it,  and  starting 
up,  the  first  I  knew  he  wheeled  and  struck  at  me, 
grazing  my  arm,  and  sending  the  candle  spinning. 
But  without  thought  my  fist  struck  on  the  left 
arm,  met  his  eye,  and  he  was  at  once  down  and  I 
had  him  by  the  throat.  Just  then,  Brother  Moore, 
a  local  preacher,  said:  "Don't  hurt  him."  I  said: 
"God  have  mercy  on  him;  for  it  is  hard  for  me 
to."  He  was  making  loud  cries  for  help.  He 
went  off  and  swore  that  I  assaulted  him,  and 
sent  an  officer,  who  took  me  before  a  justice.  I 
had  plenty  of  friends,  and  we  beat  him  on  the 
papers,  and  I  got  out  of  the  affair  easily;  and  the 
general  verdict  was  that  he  deserved  all  he  got, 
and  that  I  wa.s  the  man  to  administer  it.  Suffice 
it  to  say,  it  was  the  only  fight  I  was  ever  in,  and 
I  did  not  want  that  one,  and  was  careful  before 
and  since  to  avoid  collisions  of  that  kind.  That 
night  and  next  day  we  had  a  quiet  time.  Brother 
S.  C.  Thomas  was  our  presiding  elder  at  this 
meeting. 

The  father  of  the  man  that  crowed  lived  within 
less  than  a  half-mile  of  the  camp-ground.  A  few 
days  after,  he  was  helping  to  haul  hay,  and  fell  off 
the  load  and  broke  his  neck.  He  was  about , 
seventy  years  old.  They  had  a  dance  at  their 
house  on  Saturday  evening  of  the  camp-meeting. 
What  good  ever  came  of  a  dance? 

This  was  near  the  close  of  my  fourth  year  in 
the  conference.  The  next  session  was  held  at 
Racine,  Wisconsin.  I  was  elected  to  elder's 


ADMITTED  TO  CONFERENCE.  67 

orders,  and  ordained,  with  several  others,  by  Bishop 
Janes,  at  this  time,  1855. 

This  closed  my  work  in  Wisconsin,  at  least  for 
a  time.  I  will  speak  of  the  country,  as  my  circuit 
covered  the  oldest  and  first  settlements  of  Wis- 
consin. My  travel  had  been  south  of  the  Wiscon- 
sin River,  except  when  I  crossed  over  from  Mus- 
koda,  and  preached  among  the  first  at  Uncle  John 
McKinny's,  and  south  to  the  State  line,  including 
Iowa,  Grant,  and  L,afayette  Counties.  This  corner 
of  the  State  is  not  surpassed,  take  it  every  way. 
The  greatest  attractions  at  first  were  its  mines, 
known  as  the  lead-mines,  opened  about  1830. 
Men  were  not  allowed  to  mine  at  Dubuque  till  the 
fall  of  1832,  when  the  Black  Hawk  purchase  was 
concluded.  Mines  were  worked  about  Galena  and 
at  points  in  Wisconsin.  It  was  not  only  a  mining 
region,  but  a  good  agricultural  country.  Many  a 
poor  man  made  a  raise  digging,  and  went  to  farm- 
ing or  into  other  business.  Many  of  the  settlers 
went  up  from  Illinois.  They  were  called  Suckers, 
because  they  came  first  in  the  spring,  and  took 
the  sucker-shoot  back  in  the  fall.  Next  were  the 
Missourians.  You  could  tell  them  by  their  butter- 
nut jeans  coats  and  pants. 

Our  Church  was  generally  the  first  in  new  set- 
tlements, and  especially  here.  Father  Mitchell 
and  Major  Rowntree  were  at  Platteville.  This 
seemed  to  be  head-quarters  for  Methodists,  and 
from  this  place  they  went  from  one  digging  to 
another,  and  did  most  of  the  early  preaching. 
Rev.  T.  M.  Fullerton  started  in  about  1842.  He 


68  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

was  converted  a  year  or  two  before,  and  married 
Father  Journey's  daughter,  in  the  Parkison  Set- 
tlement, where  Fayette  now  stands.  The  presid- 
ing elders  were  one  of  the  Cavanaugh  preachers, 
Henry  Summers,  with  I.  I.  Stewart  and  Brother 
Whitfield.  They  held  the  revival  meeting  at  Snake 
Hollow,  now  Potosi.  Some  sixty  were  converted, 
out  of  whom  came  three  or  four  preachers.  The 
Church  kept  pace  with  the  growth  of  the  coun- 
try. As  we  traveled  over  this  part  four  years,  we 
could  but  think  it  the  most  beautiful  part  of  the 
world — its  high  prairies,  its  deep  gorges,  with 
diggings  on  the  rough  parts,  and  good  farming 
land  on  the  smooth  part.  Such  grand  views!  The 
Platte  Mounds  near  the  center,  the  Blue  Mounds, 
and  the  good  soil,  all  to  be  seen  from  almost  any 
place,  were  calculated  to  inspire  the  mind  of  the 
traveler. 


RlCHLAND   MISSION.  69 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HIGHLAND  MISSION,  MINNESOTA. 

T7ROM  the  above  conference  I  was  appointed 
4-  to  Richland  Mission,  Fillmore  County,  Minne- 
sota, some  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  the 
seat  of  conference.  I  returned  to  Wiota,  and  be- 
gan to  arrange  to  start.  A  few  days  after,  I  was 
called  on  to  join  in  matrimony  Dr.  W.  B.  Thurs- 
ton  and  my  sister  Rachel,  who  had  been  a  friend 
and  sister  to  me,  and  next  to  an  own  mother  to 
my  children,  and,  for  the  four  preceding  years, 
useful  on  all  the  charges,  and  more  beloved  than 
her  brother.  They  were  married  at  father's,  within 
eight  miles  of  Platteville.  They  settled  in  Argyle, 
where  they  have  resided  ever  since. 

I  left  for  my  mission,  accompanied  by  my  oldest 
son  Joshua.  We  took  a  mule  and  buggy  to  Du- 
buque,  Iowa;  thence  a  steamboat  to  Brownsville, 
the  nearest  landing  to  my  work,  forty  miles  west 
of  the  Mississippi  River.  Here  I  found  a  class  of 
about  twenty  members  that  had  been  organized 
the  year  before  by  Brother  B.  Crist,  the  only  one  on 
my  mission,  and  the  only  school-house  that  I  knew 
of  in  the  Territory  at  that  time.  We  went  from 
there  to  Preston.  Two  families  made  an  appoint- 
ment. Thence  six  miles  to  Brother  Martin  Kings- 
berry's.  He  was  a  new  settler;  had  two  small 
rooms  on  a  beautiful  claim.  Brother  Kingsberry 


70  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

was  a  probationer,  and  his  wife  a  member  of  our 
Church,  and  they  gave  us  a  hearty  welcome.  Be- 
fore bed-time,  he  informed  us  it  was  their  custom 
to  have  prayer  each  morning  and  evening,  and  on 
Thursday  evening  a  prayer-meeting.  They  both 
prayed,  and  we  had  prayer-meeting  that  night. 
This  was  the  first  meeting  of  the  kind  in  those 
parts,  and  is  worthy  of  mention  because  it  was 
the  first  time  I  had  found  it  on  thiswise  in  my  life. 

Feeling  much  refreshed  in  spirit,  we  went  to 
Carmona,  and  from  there  to  near  Rochester,  where 
my  son  left  me  for  St.  Paul,  to  seek  an  opening  in 
business  for  himself.  I  found  Rochester  was  to 
be  supplied  by  another.  There  were  but  few 
houses  in  it.  Thence  I  went  back  to  the  State  line 
east  of  Spring  Valley,  and  back  by  Klliota,  to 
Brother  Purcell's. 

This  week  I  received  a  letter  from  my  father 
with  the  sad*  and  unexpected  news  of  the  death 
of  Brother  Robert  C.  Dyer,  who  was  two  years 
younger  than  myself.  We  had  been  brought  up  side 
by  side,  and  had  been  much  together  after  we  were 
men.  I  had  feared  something  was  not  right,  as  he 
was  constantly  in  my  thoughts,  and  every  thing  I 
saw  in  my  travels  I  wanted  to  tell  him  about. 
But  I  was  not  permitted  to  see  him  again.  I  hope 
to  meet  him  in  heaven.  His  death  was  sudden. 
He  was  with  a  man  for  a  load  of  wood.  Directing 
the  man  to  drive  home,  he  said  that  he  would  go 
by  a  neighbor's  whom  he  wished  to  see.  So  he 
took  the  driver's  gun,  and  when  he  got  to  the 
house,  the  lady  asked  him  in ;  but  he  stood  on  the 


HIGHLAND  MISSION.  71 

door-step,  the  gun  by  his  side.  It  slipped  off 
the  step,  and  discharged  into  his  side,  near  his 
vest-pocket,  ranging  up  into  his  stomach.  He 
survived  about  thirty-six  hours.  My  father  and 
some  of  the  other  children  were  with  him.  Brother 
Thomas  held  him  in  his  arms  till  he  was  gone. 
When  I  heard  the  news,  with  deep  sorrow  I  re- 
paired to  a  lonely  spot  to  give  vent  to  my  anguish 
by  weeping,  and  to  ask  God  to  help  me  to  bear  it, 
and  to  be  a  more  devoted  man  and  consecrated 
minister.  I  thank  God  for  his  sustaining  grace  in 
this  hard  trial,  and  for  all  his  benefits  toward  me 
in  all  my  hours  of  distress. 

To  return  to  my  work;  it  was  arranged  for  a 
two-weeks'  circuit,  with  eight  appointments.  I 
found  some  additional  places — among  them 
Brown's  Mills — to  visit  occasionally.  I  preached 
from  two  to  three  times  on  Sunday,  and  served 
the  other  appointments  on  week  evenings.  During 
this  time,  having  a  few  spare  days,  I  took  up  a 
quarter  section  of  prairie-land,  cornering  within  a 
few  rods  of  the  school-house,  and  had  a  house 
raised,  working  on  it  as  best  I  could. 

Now,  about  the  first  of  December,  1855,  our 
first  quarterly  meeting  was  to  be  held.  Saturday 
two  o'clock  preaching  had  been  announced.  I 
expected  my  presiding  elder,  Rev.  N.  Hobart,  but 
in  vain.  I  saw  the  people  coming,  left  my  work, 
and  took  charge  of  the  services.  Here  we  held 
the  first  quarterly  conference  on  the  mission. 
Brother  James  Graham,  C.  Willford,  Brother  Ernes, 
and  Leroy  Streetor  were  present. 


72  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

It  was  at  this  time  I  first  held  communion  un- 
assisted. Here,  in  the  almost  wild  prairie,  we  had 
a  gracious  time.  At  the  close  on  Sunday  night 
we  took  a  vote  as  to  the  continuance  of  the  meet- 
ing, and  every  evening  for  three  weeks  held  serv- 
ice. There  were  forty-two  at  the  altar  for  prayer, 
and  almost  every  one  made  a  profession  of  re- 
ligion. Brother  Anthony  Willford  was  clearly 
saved  through  faith,  as  was  his  wife.  He  has 
been  quite  a  successful  traveling  preacher,  and  is 
still  in  the  work.  James  Purcell  was  also  recom- 
mended to  the  conference,  but  never  went  to  his 
work  as  I  know  of.  Many  others  were  converted ; 
one  C.  C.  Streetor,  who  afterwards  married  my 
only  daughter,  and  now  lives  in  Colorado.  Several 
that  I  know  of  are  on  their  way  home. 

After  a  week's  rest,  I  went  over  four  miles  to 
Purcell's  neighborhood,  and  held  eight  days,  and 
the  result  was  a  good  revival.  Twenty-two  joined, 
four  or  five  by  letter,  and  the  rest  on  probation. 
On  Christmas  day  we  had  a  good  time;  the  power 
of  God  being  manifested  in  the  salvation  of  the 
people.  Brother  Purcell  had  been  led  off  by  the 
Second  Adventists,  and  became  cold  and  some- 
what soured.  His  wife  and  mother-in-law  and  four 
or  five  children,  with  three  or  four  of  his  brother's 
family,  and  others  to  the  number  of  twenty,  were 
forward  for  prayers;  and  but  two  besides  myself 
to  pray.  The  father  was  sitting  back.  I  called 
on  him  to  come  and  pray  for  his  family,  and  he 
went  to  the  work,  and  was  blessed,  as  they  all 
were;  and  next  day  we  closed  the  meeting  and 


RICHLAND  MISSION.  73 

formed  the  class,  which  grew  within  two  years  to 
near  fifty. 

We  formed  a  class  in  Kingsbury's  settlement 
of  members  and  probationers — some  ten,  I  think. 
During  the  winter  our  increase  was  about  seventy, 
This  winter — 1855  and  1856 — was  the  cold- 
est I  had  ever  seen,  or  have  seen  since.  In  the 
forepart  of  December,  there  came  heavy  sleet  and 
snow,  and  it  never  thawed  for  over  forty  days.  It 
was  almost  impossible  to  go  out  of  a  beaten  road, 
as  there  was  a  heavy  crust  on  the  snow.  I  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  Wisconsin  that  seemed  to  make 
it  necessary  for  me  to  go  and  attend  to  some  busi- 
ness. I  went  in  February,  and  as  soon  as  the 
spring  was  appearing,  we,  as  a  family,  moved  up 
into  Minnesota.  The  snow  was  gone ;  but  we 
crossed  the  Wisconsin  and  Mississippi  on  the  ice 
at  Prairie  du  Chien.  We  had  plenty  of  mud  on 
both  sides  of  the  river.  We  were  in  our  house  at 
once.  I  was  soon  around  to  all  my  appointments, 
and  found  things,  after  a  six  weeks'  absence, 
quite  encouraging.  Our  quarterly  meeting  was  to 
be  held  about  the  first  of  June. 

We  got  the  camp-ground  cleared  up  on  the 
land  of  Mr.  Eastman,  near  Lenora,  which  had 
been  laid  off,  and  the  lots  put  on  sale  that  spring. 
I  surveyed  and  platted  the  forty  acres,  and  deeded 
it  to  trustees,  and  got  it  on  record.  They  were 
to  pay  me  fifty  dollars  for  it,  but  I  took  two  lots. 
The  proceeds  were  for  the  erection  of  a  church. 
We  made  all  calculations  on  as  good  a  time  as 
possible.  Rev.  N.  Hobart,  with  several  others,  was 

7 


74  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

in  attendance.  It  was  a  great  treat  to  have  plenty 
of  help.  I  suppose  it  was  the  first  camp-meeting 
ever  attempted  to  be  held  in  Minnesota ;  but  I  was 
soon  corrected  in  that,  for  they  had  a  little  one 
up  at  Red  Wing  prior  to  this;  ours  was  the  sec- 
ond. We  had  a  good,  profitable  time.  About  ten 
were  saved  and  added  to  the  Church.  It  seemed 
like  old  times,  with  our  presiding  elder,  and 
Brothers  Fate  and  Crist,  and  others,  to  help. 
This  was  in  1856. 

Our  part  of  the  country  was  filling  up  fast 
with  settlers,  and  we  set  in  to  build  our  church  of 
stone ;  but  the  walls  were  notv  nearly  up  when  cold 
weather  came.  Then  followed  the  spring  of  1857, 
and  with  it  the  financial  crash.  This  was  much 
worse  here,  from  the  fact  that  we  were  all  new 
settlers.  The  majority  of  the  people  had  spent 
most,  if  not  all,  that  they  brought  with  them,  and 
had  not  time  as  yet  to  make  anything  off  their 
farms.  There  was  scarcely  any  money  in  the 
country;  and  land  that  had  been  bought  from  the 
government  at  one  dollar  and  twenty-five  cents, 
could  not  be  sold  for  that  much,  including  the  im- 
provements. Nothing  was  at  par,  save  the  salva- 
tion of  our  souls.  Thanks  be  to  God,  no  drouth, 
floods,  nor  financial  depression,  can  stop  the  con- 
stant fullness  of  the  grace  that  comes  from  above ! 
But  it  may  retard  the  building  of  churches,  and 
break  many  a  good  man  financially.  Some  of  the 
preachers  were  not  exceptions.  I  heard  one — who 
had  been  worth  thousands,  and  was  almost  too 
well-off  to  continue  in  the  work — say  that  he  was 


RlCHLAND    MISSION.  75 

brought  so  low,  financially,  that  he  could  scarcely 
get  enough  to  keep  himself  and  family  from  suf- 
fering. 

I  felt  the  pressure,  but  not  so  severely  as 
many.  I  had  taken  with  me  sixteen  hundred 
dollars,  with  which  I  secured  two  hundred  acres 
of  land.  My  fifteen-year-old  daughter  and  Sam- 
uel, my  twelve-year-old  son,  kept  house  in  our 
cabin,  a  mile  from  neighbors,  and  alone  when  I 
was  on  the  circuit.  Daughter  says  that  I  left  no 
latch  on  the  door,  and  that  she  cried  for  fear  at 
night.  But  our  God  seldom,  if  ever,  permits  evil 
to  befall  us  or  our  families  if  we  keep  on  preach- 
ing the  gospel. 

We  will  pass  now  to  the  first  conference  ever 
held  in  Minnesota.  It  was  at  Red  Wing.  Our 
lamented  Bishop  Simpson  presided,  to  the  admira- 
tion of  us  all,  both  as  to  "his  eloquence  and  spiritual 
powers.  His  preaching  on  Sunday  was  never  to 
be  forgotten  by  any  who  heard  it.  The  love-feast 
was  one  of  unusual  enjoyment.  The  writer  made 
three  attempts  to  speak,  and  would  have  succeeded, 
but  a  good  sister  opened  her  mouth  just  as  he 
began  to  rise.  I  concluded  to  improve  by  her  ex- 
ample, and  be  ready  next  time.  Nevertheless,  the 
meeting  was  power  all  the  way  through,  and  left  a 
bright  spot  in  my  memory. 

Many  of  the  preachers  looked  rather  care- 
worn, as  though  it  had  been  a  hard  year.  I  may 
have  judged  by  my  own  feelings,  in  part.  It  was 
a  good,  refreshing  session.  The  brethren  proposed 
a  spring  session  of  our  conference.  I,  in  my  fee- 


76  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

bleness,  opposed  it,  having  moved  one  hundred 
and  sixty  miles  that  spring.  Some,  who  lived 
along  the  river,  said  there  was  no  mud  in  Minne- 
sota ;  and  the  experiment  was  tried,  but  only  once. 
We  were  not  entirely  unacquainted  with  the 
brethren  of  the  conference.  C.  and  N.  Hobart, 
D.  Brooks,  Jabez  Brooks,  T.  M.  Kirkpatrick,  John 
Hooper,  G.  W.  Richardson,  and  others,  were  pres- 
ent, and  kept  us  from  feeling  like  a  stranger. 
N.  Hobart  was  presiding  elder  on  Winona  District 
again.  Brother  Hooper  was  sent  to  Caledonia, 
and  I  was  returned  to  the  same  work ;  only  it  was 
called  Preston  Circuit.' 

We  labored,  the  second  year,  with  some  suc- 
cess. Our  last  quarterly  meeting  was  a  camp- 
meeting,  held  at  the  same  ground  used  the  year 
before.  The  presiding  elder  was  not  present,  but 
sent  Brother  Fate  in  his  place.  Brother  Lease, 
of  Iowa,  was  also  there.  The  first  and  second 
day,  every  service  seemed  to  drag,  until  darkness 
prevailed.  The  writer  gathered  about  one  dozen 
select  men,  and  took  to  the  woods  for  a  prayer- 
meeting.  After  a  few  words  of  exhortation,  we 
fell  on  our  knees  and  struggled  for  half  an  hour, 
when  the  power  of  God  came  down,  and  victory 
was  felt  and  seen  on  every  hand.  The  meeting 
at  once  gave  signs  of  life,  and  grew  better  to  the 
last.  The  morning  we  thought  of  leaving,  the 
preacher  in  charge  felt  that  there  was  an  unusual 
power  resting  on  the  people,  and  called  for  seek- 
ers. New  converts  and  old  members  started  out 
for  their  friends.  Hardly  any  seemed  able  to 


RICHLAND  MISSION.  77 

resist.  One  exhorter  was  very  successful;  had  a 
penitent  on  each  side  of  him,  and  looked  up  and 
said:  "Brother  Dyer,  I  got  them  all  but  two,  and 
those  ran  away."  Such  a  scene  has  seldom  been 
witnessed  as  was  presented  at  that  altar  for  sev- 
eral hours — weeping,  praying,  and  praising.  About 
forty  were  converted. 

This  closed  the  conference  year;  and  I  left  the 
next  day  for  conference,  which  was  held  at  Winona ; 
Bishop  Ames  presiding.  This  was  the  first  time 
I  had  met  him  officially  since  the  conference  at 
Fond  du  Lac,  Wisconsin;  the  first  conference  he 
ever  held.  Rev.  Chauncey  Hobart  and  some  others 
were  present  as  fathers  among  us.  We  had  a 
pleasant  session,  and  I  was  appointed  to  Caledonia 
Circuit. 

Just  here  I  would  say,  the  financial  crash  of  1857 
was  fully  upon  us.  I  had  given  forty  acres  of  land 
toward  the  Church,  which  was  a  large  share  of  all 
I  had.  Unfortunately  several  of  us  went  security 
for  a  man,  in  order  to  help  him  bring  a  saw-mill 
into  the  neighborhood,  supposing  him  to  be  reli- 
able ;  but  he  failed,  and,  as  it  turned  out,  his  father 
owned  all  the  property,  and  the  security  had  to 
pay.  I  had  no  money,  and  so  gave  a  mortgage 
on  thirty-eight  acres  more  to  secure  my  note ;  and 
when  the  mortgage  was  foreclosed,  the  father  of 
the  man  bid  the  land  in  and  deeded  it  to  the 
debtor's  wife!  It  was  always  worth  the  debt. 
This,  with  some  other  misfortunes,  and  not  re- 
ceiving enough  the  two  preceding  years  to  support 
me  and  my  family — as  I  was  a  single  man  and 


78  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

one  Hundred  dollars  a  year  was  quarterage — suffice 
it  to  say,  I  was  financially  burst;  actually  sold 
my  mule  to  pay  a  debt,  and  started  on  foot  to  my 
circuit;  visited  all  the  houses,  and  talked  to  the 
people  on  the  importance  of  their  salvation. 

I  spent  my  time  thus  until  near  December,  when 
I  undertook  to  hold  a  protracted  meeting  at  what 
was  called  the  Red  School-house;  quite  a  large 
one.  There  I  visited  twenty-seven  families — about 
all  in  the  school  district — and  found  but  one  old 
lady  that  gave  any  evidence  of  saving  grace.  I 
saw  all  but  one  family.  The  day  before,  on  my 
way  there,  I  met  a  boy  and  asked  him  about  them, 
and  he  said  they  had  gone  away.  "  They  expected 
you  would  be  there,"  he  went  on;  "and  give  them 
the  devil." 

I  heard  of  a  family  at  the  edge  of  the  settle- 
ment that  was  called  religious,  and  hoped  to  have 
a  good  time.  The  man  was  a  shoe-maker.  I 
rapped  at  the  cabin  door,  was  invited  in,  and 
told  them  who  I  was  and  my  business,  and  in- 
quired of  them  if  they  enjoyed  religion.  The  lady 
had  been  an  Episcopalian,  but  the  man  said  he 
made  no  pretense,  but  had  more  of  religion  than  men 
running  around  to  every  house  and  raising  such  a 
stir  among  the  people.  He  had  a  religion  of  his 
own,  and  reverenced  his  God.  Well,  the  preacher 
asked  him  for  a  bit  of  his  experience,  and  how  he 
performed  before  his  God.  He  gave  no  response 
to  the  questions,  only  said  he  would  as  soon  hear  a 
man  swear  as  pray.  I  said  :  "  We  generally  ask  to 
pray ;  but  as  you  would  as  soon  hear  a  man  swear  as 


RlCHLAND    MISSION.  79 

pray,  I  will  waive  it  on  this  occasion."  The  woman 
said:  "I  hope  you  won't  go  away  without  prayer." 
"Well,  if  you  will  kneel  with  me,  we  will  pray." 
We  knelt,  and  offered  a  short  and  pointed  prayer. 
I  noticed  that  the  man  kept  his  hat  on.  When 
we  got  up  I  asked  him  how  he  liked  the  prayer? 
UO,  very  well."  "Now,  sir,  if  you  had  reverenced 
your  God  half  as  much  as  you  professed,  you  would 
have  taken  off  your  hat  while  we  prayed."  "I 
beg  pardon,"  he  said,  "and  hope  you  will  excuse 
me ;  I  never  thought  of  it."  Of  course  I  squared  ac- 
counts by  a  promise  that  he  would  come  to  meeting. 
But  while  I  was  visiting,  some  of  the  leading 
men  got  together  and  resolved  to  close  the  school- 
house,  and  not  let  me  preach  any  more.  That 
night,  near  time  for  service,  I  met  in  the  vestibule 
two  of  the  school  directors,  one  a  Quaker.  He 
said:  "Mr.  Dyer,  how  long  does  thee  intend  to 
hold  these  meetings?"  "Don't  know."  "Well, 
we  have  concluded  these  excitements  that  thee 
gets  up  will  hurt  our  school."  I  told  him  that  it 
was  thought  that  religion  and  education  went  to- 
gether, and  I  was  sure  that  they  were  not  religious 
enough  yet  to  hurt  the  school,  or  prevent  the  chil- 
dren from  learning.  "Well,"  he  replied,  "Mr. 
Jones  thinks  the  weather  is  too  bad  for  people 
to  be  called  out  every  night."  "I  suppose  Mr. 
Jones  does  n't  think  it  too  'bad  to  run  opposition 
twice  this  week  with  a  dance  at  his  house,"  I  re- 
sponded. He  was  a  fiddler  as  well  as  school 
director.  And  so,  saying  that  we  could  have  the 
house  that  night,  we  passed  them. 


80  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

We  had  a  large  audience  and  good  attention, 
and  if  ever  I  gave  a  warm  mess,  it  was  on  this 
occasion.  At  the  close,  I  said  if  there  was  any 
one  who  wished  to  have  the  meetings  continue, 
we  would  like  to  have  him  say  so  in  the  congre- 
gation. No  one  said  a  word.  Then  I  asked  the 
school  directors  what  they  had  to  say.  One  of 
them  said:  "You  can  have  the  house  on  Sunday 
in  the  day-time,  but  not  in  the  evening."  uYou 
all  three  agree  to  this?"  They  replied  in  the 
affirmative.  I  gave  them  a  few  words  on  leav- 
ing, and  said  I  was  about  to  do  as  the  devil 
never  did,  and  that  was  to  leave  them.  We  were 
sorry  to  do  so,  as  our  only  desire  was  to  see  them 
converted  and  saved  in  heaven.  We  dismissed 
and  left.  I  will  say  that  it  was  a  common  talk 
that  they  had  closed  their  house  against  the 
preacher,  and  secured  preaching  by  a  Universalist ; 
and  when  the  hat  was  passed  around,  some  of 
them  threw  in  buttons,  and  so  he  left.  The  next 
year,  when  the  preacher  came  to  the  circuit  nearest 
them,  they  sent  a  man  to  ask  one  of  the  stewards 
to  have  him  come  and  preach  for  them  every  other 
Sunday,  and  promised  to  be  responsible  for  their 
part  of  his  salary.  They  soon  had  a  revival.  I 
am  glad  that  it  turned  out  well  in  the  end ;  for  I 
could  bear  with  them,  and  often  prayed  that  good 
would  be  done  in  that  place. 

From  here  we  went  within  seven  miles  of 
Caledonia,  into  a  settlement  where  they  had  no 
school-house.  One  of  the  houses  was  large  enough 
to  hold  fifty  or  sixty  people.  We  began  about  the 


RICHLAND  MISSION.  81 

twentieth  of  December,  and  the  people  here  were 
more  noble,  inasmuch  as  they  heard  the  word 
gladly,  and  we  had  about  twenty-five  conversions, 
and  formed  a  class.  We  held  a  watch-night  meet- 
ing, which  was  a  gracious  time.  Nine  o'clock  and 
a  little  after  midnight  there  were  ten  conversions, 
almost  a  clean  sweep.  There  was  to  be  a  ball  at 
Sheldon  during  our  meeting,  but  we  had  captured 
the  fiddler.  They  boasted  that  five  dollars  would 
secure  his  services;  but  he  told  them  he  had  quit, 
and  would  not  go.  It  was  said  they  had  poor 
music,  and  not  enough  receipts  to  pay  half  the 
expenses.  We  went  down  and  found  there  was  a 
very  bad  state  of  feeling  among  them  ;  but  got 
them  all  out.  Soon  all  troubles  were  settled,  and 
a  good  work  was  done.  Quite  a  number  were  re- 
claimed, and  some  were  converted.  We  formed  a 
class  of  sixteen.  The  good  Lord  descended  in  great 
mercy  at  both  these  meetings.  One  old  .sister  got 
very  happy,  and  took  a  good  shout.  She  was  in 
so  great  an  ecstasy  of  joy  that  she  made  for  her 
husband,  who  was  a  member,  and  he  got  out  of 
her  way  very  quick  ;  he  almost  ran.  I  went  home 
with  them,  and  asked  him  why  he  ran  from  his 
happy  wife.  "  Why,"  he  said,  "  I  am  just  as  afraid  of 
her  when  she  shouts  as  I  am  of  any  other  woman." 
We  took  a  little  rest,  and  next  went  over  to 
the  South  Prairie.  Held  a  meeting  for  two  weeks, 
and  had  about  ten  converted  and  joined  to  the 
Church,  through  the  blessing  of  God.  We  felt  he 
was  with  his  people,  and  sinners  were  saved  and 
the  members  built  up  in  their  most  holy  faith. 


82  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

We  had  some  very  good  members ;  Brother  Lewis 
and  his  wife,  good  and  true,  young  folks  in  the 
Church,  and  Brother  Hate  and  family,  with  others. 

Notwithstanding  that  whisky  and  cards  were 
used  freely,  Caledonia  had  some  nice  people  and 
some  religious  individuals.  One  of  the  hard  cases 
was  a  man  of  family.  He  loved  his  company,  and 
spent  his  money.  His  wife  grieved,  as  he  was 
wasting  his  living.  She  went  to  a  neighbor  woman 
whose  husband  was  in  the  same  row,  and  they 
agreed  to  take  axes  and  knock  in  the  door  and 
windows  on  the  west  side  of  the  house,  as  the 
wind  was  blowing  from  that  way.  The  courage 
of  one  failed  her;  but  the  other,  firm  in  her 
determination,  knocked  the  window  in  the  first 
lick,  and  struck  down  the  door  the  next.  The 
wind  blew  the  lights  out  and  everything  off  the 
table.  The  whole  crew  thought  it  a  mob,  and 
jumped  out  of  the  window  on  the  other  side,  and 
ran  away. 

At  another  time  a  saloon-keeper  bought  six 
barrels  of  whisky,  and  laid  them  on  their  sides, 
with  the  ends  against  the  weather-boarding.  Some- 
body— so  the  same  lady  told  me — bored  holes 
through  the  boards  and  into  the  heads  of  the 
barrels  at  the  lower  edge,  so  that  there  was  but 
very  little  whisky  left  in  any  of  them. 

The  above  shows  how  women  and  children 
suffer  by  drink  and  cards.  This  woman  was  a 
perfect  hater  of  these  things ;  and  to  hear  her  abuse 
both,  one  would  think  she  had  tongue  enough  for 
two  sets  of  teeth.  Rev.  John  Quigley  came  soon 


HIGHLAND  MISSION.  83 

afterwards,  and  lectured  on  temperance.  Although 
I  never  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  him,  by  report 
he  was  never  surpassed.  The  above  woman  said, 
when  she  heard  him,  she  was  ashamed  of  herself 
that  she  had  failed  to  tell  the  half,  and  felt  assured 
that  nothing  which  would  stop  the  traffic  was  to 
be  considered  mean  in  the  sight  of  God. 

I  traveled  on  foot  this  year,  and  attended  closely 
to  my  work,  and  received  but  very  little  compen- 
sation. My  presiding  elder  was  Brother  D.  Cobb, 
and,  if  my  memory  serves  me  right,  he  got  more 
money  than  the  preacher  in  charge.  But  God  was 
pleased  to  bless  the  feeble  efforts  put  forth,  and 
graciously  revived  his  work.  To  him  be  all  the 
glory. 

On  this  charge  there  was  one  of  the  most  di- 
minutive little  mills  that  was  ever  seen  in  Min- 
nesota. While  we  were  looking  at  it  doing  its 
level  best,  two  other  men,  new  in  the  country, 
gazed  on  it  with  astonishment;  and  one  of  them 
who  always  would  speak  in  approbation  of  any 
thing  he  could,  whined  out:  "  Why,  it  is  the  most 
industrious  little  mill  I  ever  saw;  just  as  fast  as 
it  grinds  one  grain,  it  begins  on  another."  We 
turned  away  from  the  first  mill  erected  in  the 
county,  with  the  idea  of  industry  on  our  minds. 

There  was  a  man  whose  name  was  Job  Brown, 
who  built  a  very  good  mill  in  the  bounds  of  this 
circuit.  He  was  converted  at  a  prayer-meeting 
held  by  Brother  Wilcox.  Mr.  Brown  had  been 
possessed  of  wealth,  as  he  was  proprietor  of 
Brownsville  on  the  Mississippi.  He  had  been,  by 


84  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

his  own  report,  a  very  wicked  man,  a  leader  in 
almost  every  sort  of  vice.  And  when  he  was  a 
changed  man,  he  was  just  as  determined  to  do  all 
he  could  for  the  cause  of  Christ,  and  was  faithful 
while  I  knew  him.  I  heard  him  tell  of  his  danc- 
ing, which,  by  the  way,  is  the  mother  of  most 
other  sins.  He  and  one  of  his  associates  had  been 
at  swords'  points  for  some  time.  He  was  invited 
by  this  man  into  a  saloon  to  drink,  and  both  were 
the  worse  of  liquor.  After  drinking,  the  man  said, 
"I  will  shoot  you  with  an  empty  revolver;"  put 
it  to  his  own  ear  and  snapped  it  first,  and  then  at 
Brown's  head,  and  again  at  his  own  and  at  Brown's. 
This  way  he  snapped  it  four  times.  The  fifth,  he 
put  it  to  his  own  head,  and  it  went  off,  and  he 
fell  dead.  As  that  was  the  only  load  in  the  pistol, 
it  was  concluded  that  he  intended  it  for  Brown, 
but  made  a  mistake  in  count  and  killed  himself. 
This  was  a  shock  to  Brown,  as  he  saw  how  close 
he  had  been  to  death. 

Some  time  before  his  conversion  he  dreamed 
that  he  saw  this  man,  among  others,  in  a  large 
room  that  was  not  more  than  half  lighted ;  but  as 
he  had  seen  him  dance,  lie  knew  him,  and  he 
seemed  tired.  He  soon  observed  that  he  could 
not  quite  hold  up  his  head,  which  lolled  over  first 
on  one -shoulder,  and  then  on  the  other,  and  his 
tongue  was  hanging  out  of  his  mouth,  and  he 
seemed  to  be  in  agony.  The  dancing  was  done 
without  music.  The  sight  was  so  horrible  that  he 
waked,  and  was  glad  it  was  only  a  dream.  It  had 
a  tendency  to  arouse  him  to  serious  reflection,  and 


RlCHLAND    MISSION.  85 

was  to  some  extent  the  cause  of  his  seeking  the 
salvation  of  his  soul.  I  have  for  many  years 
thought  that  dancing  causes  more  of  the  evils  in 
society  throughout  the  nation,  than  any  other  in- 
stitution the  devil  ever  started ;  but  that  if  it  were 
done  without  music,  and  men  and  women  danced 
by  themselves,  it  would  not  do  much  harm. 

This  was  a  short  year ;  for  we  had  met  in  May 
at  St.  Paul.     Bishop  Morris  presided  in  his  usual 
pleasant    manner.       He    boarded    with     Brother 
McClain,  who  had  been  acquainted  with  my  father 
in  early  times  in  Ohio.     He  heard  my  name,  and 
inquired  from  where  I  came.     I  told  him,  and  he 
asked  me  to  go  and  take  dinner   with  him.     We 
went,  and   had   a   pleasant   visit — all  being  from 
Columbus,   or  near  there.     The  bishop  gave   an 
incident  that  happened  when  he  was  stationed  in 
Columbus.     They  had  a  good  old  man  that  told 
his  experience  and  conversion,  just  in  the  same 
words,  every  quarter;    and  at  one  of  the  Church 
meetings  his  case  was  brought  up,  and  they  feared 
it  would  offend  him  to  tell  him  that  he  took  too 
much   time.      One   of  the  brethren   was   a   good 
singer,    and   he   proposed   when   the  brother  got 
about   half  through   that   he  would  sing  a  verse. 
When  the  time  came,  he  struck  a  lively  tune,  sang 
his  verse,  and  just  as  soon  as  it  was  done,  the  old 
brother  jumped   up   and  said  he  would  finish  his 
story;  that  he  always  liked  a  little  singing  mixed 
in  with  his  talk.     The  old  bishop  had  not  forgot- 
ten how  the  old  man  beat  them  all. 

This  was  a  pleasant  session.     I   met  Brother 


86  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

Hoyt  here,  who  had  preached  at  my  house  in 
early  times,  about  his  first  effort.  I  made  no 
request,  and  was  not  consulted  as  to  where  I  would 
like  to  go,  and  my  name  was  read  out  for  Austin 
Circuit — the  farthest  south-west  work  in  the 
conference. 


CIRCUIT  WORK.  87 


CHAPTER  V. 

CIRCUIT    WORK. 

I  TOOK  steamboat  from  St.  Paul  to  Browns- 
ville. Thence  we  walked,  riding  when  oppor- 
tunity served,  forty  miles.  We  went  through  my 
old  and  last  circuit.  Saw  quite  a  number  of  my 
parishioners,  and  bade  them  farewell.  I  have 
seen  but  few  of  them  since.  We  reached  Lenora, 
and  found  that  everything  I  had  there  was  gone, 
or  would  soon  be  gone.  My  oldest  son,  Joshua, 
had  determined  to  go  west,  on  the  Des  Moines 
River,  north  of  Spirit  Lake.  And  we  arranged  to 
send  my  daughter,  in  company  with  Miss  Maria 
Streetor,  to  Red  Wing,  to  the  university,  for  a 
time  at  least.  So  we  broke  up  keeping  house. 
This  done,  I  traded  for  an  old  horse,  and  of  course 
he  was  not  worth  much;  but  I  thought  it  would 
be  better  than  to  go  on  foot.  Accordingly  I  set 
out  for  Austin. 

It  was  about  the  last  of  May  and  very  wet. 
I  traveled  along  a  few  miles  from  the  State  line. 
After  passing  Spring  Valley  I  stopped  all  night, 
and  it  rained  hard  till  morning;  when  I  started, 
and  came  to  Vanmeter's,  at  the  crossing  of  a 
branch  of  Root  River.  The  stream  was  out  of 
banks  and  all  over  the  low  grounds.  I  concluded 
to  try  to  cross.  I  went  up  so  as  to  take  advan- 
tage of  the  current.  I  started  in  water  knee-deep ; 


88  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

all  at  once  the  horse  and  rider  were  under,  except 
my  head  and  neck.  I  supposed  my  horse  would 
rise  and  swim;  but  either  he  did  not  know  how 
or  would  not,  for  his  head  would  come  up  and  he 
would  make  a  plunge  and  go  clean  under  again. 
This  he  did  three  times,  when,  fortunately,  we 
reached  where  he  could  stand,  the  water  over  his 
back,  but  his  head  out.  There  he  rested  a  little, 
and  waded  out  with  me.  Once  out  of  sight,  I 
took  off  my  clothes,  and  made  a  wringer  of  my 
hands,  and  got  all  the  water  out  that  was  possi- 
ble. I  had  an  appointment  about  two  miles  dis- 
tant. The  man  said  he  would  have  had  a  dozen 
to  hear  me,  but  the  flood  prevented;  so  he  had 
seven.  I  was  all  wet  and  had  taken  my  boots  off, 
and  was  drying  my  socks.  The  time  came,  and 
the  poor  Irishman  said:  "Can't  we  have  a  little 
preaching?"  I  said:  "I  can't  put  my  boots  on; 
would  it  do  barefooted?"  "Just  as  well."  And 
it  came  to  my  mind  that  I  had  not  seen  so  great 
faith  in  all  the  country.  I  gave  out  a  hymn,  and 
kneeled  in  prayer.  I  learned  afterwards  that  it 
would  have  been  the  better  way  to  have  stood  to 
pray ;  as  my  pants  stuck  to  my  legs,  and  I  had  to 
pull  them  loose,  or  they  would  have  reached  only 
down  below  my  knees.  When  everything  was  ad- 
justed, I  took  the  text:  "In  those  days  came  John 
the  Baptist  preaching,  saying,  Repent,"  etc.;  and 
did  the  best  I  could  barefooted. 

The  afternoon  was  fair  and  warm,  and  by  even- 
ing I  was  well  dried.  I  stopped  at  the  first  house 
beyond  the  Wet  Prairie,  crossing  a  deep  creek  on 


CIRCUIT  WORK.  89 

a  bridge,  the  water  all  over  it.  Three  other  men 
were  with  us,  and  we  led  and  pulled  our  horses 
over,  and  hauled  a  wagon  over  by  hand.  One  tall 
man  got  in  up  to  his  neck.  He  was  walking  on 
the  log  that  held  the  poles  on  the  bridge,  and  had 
hold  of  the  fore- wheel  of  the  wagon.  The  tongue 
took  a  lunge,  and  the  wheel  pressed  him  off.  He 
went  endways  till  he  was  all  under  except  his 
head.  He  soon  extricated  himself,  got  up,  took 
hold  again,  and  said  he  was  not  afraid  of  getting 
wet  now.  He  was  so  afraid  of  getting  wet  before, 
that  the  tongue  slipped  out  of  my  hand  in  spite 
of  myself! 

The  next  day,  when  within  less  than  half-mile 
of  Brownsdale,  I  came  to  a  broad  slough,  water 
two  feet  deep.  About  midway  my  old  horse  went 
down  to  his  body  in  the  mud.  I  got  off,  and  took 
the  bridle-reins,  and  pulled,  and  he  made  a  lunge 
right  toward  me.  I  made  for  the  shore,  and  he 
after  me,  and  by  the  time  I  got  to  terra  firma,  was 
covered  with  black  mud.  I  pulled  the  dry  grass, 
and  wiped  my  clothes  as  well  as  I  could,  and  also 
the  bridle  and  the  saddle  and  the  horse,  all  in 
sight  of  town.  While  I  was  in  this  predicament, 
I  thought  this  was  too  much  for  anybody  except 
a  Methodist  preacher,  who  had  made  his  vows  to 
take  things  as  they  come,  and  thought  nothing 
could  compensate  me  but  a  good  revival.  I  found 
Brother  Moses  Mapes,  who  had  supplied  the  work 
the  preceding  year.  He  published  preaching  for 
Sunday  at  eleven  o'clock.  By  Sister  Mapes's 
help,  I  was  fixed  up  as  well  as  circumstances 

8 


90  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

would  admit,  and  had  about  forty  hearers,  who 
paid  good  attention  while  I  tried  to  preach  from 
the  text:  "All  are  yours,  whether  Paul  or  Apol- 
los,"  etc. 

I  was  impressed  that  there  was  a  revival  ready 
to  come  to  the  surface ;  so  much  so,  that  I  gave  out 
meeting  for  Wednesday  week  in  the  evening,  and 
announced  that  if  it  seemed  promising,  we  would 
hold  extra  meetings  if  we  could  have  the  school- 
house,  which  was  granted.  At  the  time  there  was 
a  good  attendance;  but  during  the  meeting  I  felt 
great  concern;  for  I  said  to  Brother  Mapes:  "I 
thought  we  could  have  a  revival,  by  the  blessing 
of  God."  "Brother  Dyer,"  he  said,  "you  don't 
know  this  people  as  well  as  I  do.  They  have  had 
their  balls,  and  run  opposition  all  winter."  He 
gave  me  no  encouragement;  but  I  had  gone  too 
far  to  retreat,  and  was  led  to  plead  with  God  to 
guide  me  in  every  step,  and  to  help;  for  I  knew 
that  God  alone  was  able  to  save,  and  that  he  could 
thrash  the  world  with  a  worm.  I  came  with 
no  self-dependence;  and  it  was  well,  for  if  ever  a 
man  had  need  of  help,  it  was  on  this  occasion. 
For  several  days,  in  giving  out  my  appointments, 
I  had  a  travail  of  soul.  I  even  had  a  dream; 
thought  I  saw  a  man  up  in  the  air.  He  was  of 
a  dark  complexion,  riding  a  black  horse ;  had  a 
whip  in  his  hand,  and  I  thought  he  made,  in  his 
descent,  right  for  me.  As  I  watched  him  closely, 
I  saw  that  he  was  missing  his  aim ;  but  the  feet  of 
the  horse  seemed  close,  and  I  dodged  my  head,  but 
was  not  touched.  So  it  appeared  to  me  that 


CIRCUIT  WORK.  91 

there   was   war    ahead,  but    all    would    be    right 
with  me. 

On  my  return  I  found  a  good  congregation, 
and  all  the  indications  of  a  successful  work.  The 
next  Friday  evening  the  house  was  crowded,  and 
we  made  room  and  called  for  penitents.  About 
a  dozen  came  at  once,  and  we  had  one  or  two 
converted ;  a  clear  work,  and  everything  was  going 
just  right.  But  on  Saturday  a  man  brought  four 
Campbellites,  all  preachers  and,  it  was  said,  lin- 
guists, all  but  one.  Of  course  I  had  the  house 
pre-empted  at  night,  but  they  had  a  meeting  at  one 
o'clock.  With  about  thirty  others,  I  went  to  hear 
them,  and  who  should  speak  but  the  man  I  had 
seen  on  the  black  horse  w.ith  the  whip  in  hand ! 
His  talk  was  almost  all  in  opposition  to  the  dif- 
ferent Churches,  and  especially  against  the  Meth- 
odists. He  said  that  he  would  throw  all  our 
mourners'  benches  out  of  the  window,  and  he 
gave  it  to  us  generally.  When  he  quit  and  sat 
down,  he  said,  if  there  was  any  gentleman  in  the 
house  who  had  any  objections  to  what  he  had  said, 
he  hoped  he  would  reply.  I  saw  they  had  debate 
in  them,  and  he  asked  the  third  time,  and  looked 
at  me.  I  arose  and  said  if  I  had  given  such  a 
harangue  as  he  had,  it  would  have  been  ungentle- 
manly  in  me.  He  jumped  up  and  said,  "I  am 
branded  with  not  being  a  gentleman,"  and  re- 
peated it  two  or  three  times.  I  replied,  "You 
may  wear  the  'brand;'"  and  we  were  dismissed. 
They  could  not  lead  me  away  from  my  fixed  pur- 
pose in  the  revival  work,  to  engage  in  any  contro- 


92  SNOW-SHOK  ITINERANT. 

versy.     I  was  as  careful  about  that  as  I  was  not. 
to  be  hurt  by  his  horse's  feet,  and  so  dodged  it. 

At  night  the  house  was  full,  and  all  of  the 
preachers  were  out  to  see  and  hear.  We  took  for 
our  text  the  words:  "That  they  should  seek  the 
Lord,  if  haply  they  might  feel  after  him  and  find 
him."  The  Lord  helped  me,  so  that  the  trail  all 
through  the  subject  was  as  light  as  day;  and  at 
the  close  I  called  for  benches,  and  said:  "We  had 
one  full  last  night,  and  by  God's  help  to-night  we 
will  have  two."  Twenty-two  came  to  the  altar,  and 
the  meeting  was  about  as  warm  as  I  was  ever  in. 
Several  were  converted.  It  got  too  hot  for  my 
Christian  brethren.  They  went  out  and  looked 
in  at  the  window.  They  stayed  a  few  days,  and 
left.  Our  meeting  closed  with  about  thirty  con- 
verts, and  all  but  one  joined  our  Church. 

During  this  meeting,  there  was  an  old  Roman 
Catholic  who  lived  in  the  village.  His  wife  was 
a  Protestant.  Their  daughter  was  the  school- 
teacher, and  our  first  convert — an  accomplished 
young  lady  of  more  than  ordinary  ability,  and  a 
power  in  our  meetings.  Her  father  did  all  he 
could  to  oppose  her.  After  the  meeting  he  would 
harass  and  abuse  her  every  night.  I  called  on  all 

the  families,  and  with  the  rest,  on  Mr.  D .    He 

was  not  in.  The  old  lady  and  daughter  were  very 
pleasant,  and  we  had  a  good  visit.  Before  I  left 
I  proposed  to  pray.  They  consented,  and  we  knelt, 
and  while  in  prayer,  the  old  man  came  in ;  and 
when  I  rose  up  he  was  standing  right  behind  me, 
and  spoke  with  his  rough  voice:  "What  business 


CIRCUIT  WORK.  93 

have  you  to  pray  in  my  house  without  my  leave?" 
I  was  taken  by  surprise,  but  told  him  prayer  was 
becoming  at  all  times,  and  that  I  was  in  the  habit 
of  praying  with  his  neighbors.  He  replied:  "I 
won't  allow  you  to  pray  in  my  house."  I  told 
him  that  I  did  not  wish  to  intrude,  and  intended 
no  harm  in  all  that  I  had  done,  and  would  not 
pray  in  his  house  any  more  unless  he  requested 
it.  "I  will  never  do  that,"  he  said.  "I  want  you 
to  stay  away."  Of  course  I  was  rather  glad  to 
get  away,  and  did  not  intend  to  visit  him  soon. 

During  the  meeting  his  daughter  was  taken 
sick  and  went  into  a  spasm,  and  most  of  the 
neighbors  ran  in  to  see  her.  She  sent  for  me, 
and  I  went.  Her  father  was  away  at  work. 
When  she  could  speak  she  gave  her  testimony  for 
Christ,  who  had  so  lately  saved  her  from  sin,  and 
given  her  a  clear  evidence  of  acceptance  with 
him,  and  a  bright  assurance  of  glory.  She  took 
me  by  the  hand  and  said,  "  I  think  I  am  going 
home  to  heaven  soon,"  and  added:  "I  want  you 
to  preach  Christ  to  lost  sinners,  and  tell  the  world 
how  I  was  converted  and  how  I  can  meet  death." 
Her  face  was  shining  with  a  glow  of  happiness. 
She  was  taken  with  another  spasm,  and  during 
her  convulsions  her  father  came.  He  was  won- 
derfully alarmed.  In  a  short  time  she  came  to 
herself,  and  as  soon  as  she  could  speak,  reached 
her  hand  to  her  father  and  told  what  Christ  Jesus 
had  done  for  her,  and  talked  to  him,  and  made 
him  promise  to  repent  and  be  prepared  to  die. 
He  was  standing  at  one  side  of  the  large  chair, 


94  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

and  I  on  the  other.  She  then  said  to  him:  "I 
want  you  to  kneel  down,  and  the  minister  to  pray 
for  us."  He  dropped  on  his  knees,  and  I  said: 
"Do  you  say  I  must  pray?"  He  answered,  uYes, 
sir."  With  that  license,  we  bowed  together  in 
prayer.  This  young  lady  recovered,  was  married, 
lived  several  years,  and  died  in  full  triumph  of 
faith.  Glory  be  to  God  for  such  a  convert! 

There  was  another  lady,  a  leading  spirit  in  the 
town,  who  sought  her  soul's  salvation  through  op- 
position. She  was  reared  by  a  Christian  mother, 
who  belonged  to  the  Campbellite  or  Christian 
Church,  and  died  happy.  When  she  was  on  her 
death-bed,  she  called  her  children  around  her,  and 
gave  them  her  dying  charge,  and  in  particular  said 
to  them  that  she  knew  there  was  a  reality  in  ex- 
perimental religion,  and  that  she  was  in  the  en- 
joyment of  that  blessing,  and  requested  them  not 
to  live  without  this  knowledge  of  sins  forgiven. 
Her  brother  would  come  every  day  and  say  all  he 
could  to  stop  his  sister  taking  any  part  in  our 
meeting — would  say,  "Just  do  religion,"  and 
made  use  of  the  Bible  to  prove  his  position.  But 
at  the  last  of  his  talk  she  would  say:  "You  know, 
John,  what  mother  told  us  when  she  was  dying ; 
that  there  was  a  reality  in  experimental  religion." 
He  never  disputed  that.  We  can  not  but  be 
thankful  for  a  dying  mother's  advice.  It  often 
brings  the  children  to  Christ. 

I  talked  with  her  every  day,  and  was  exercised 
to  a  great  extent,  and  laid  her  case  before  God  in 
earnest  prayer,  until  he  was  pleased  to  give  the 


CIRCUIT  WORK.  95 

evidence  that  all  would  come  out  right.  Sure 
enough ;  it  did  come  out  right.  Near  the  close  of 
the  meeting  we  had  a  terrible  rain.  The  ground 
was  covered  with  water,  and  we  had  a  small  turn- 
out. Three  were  forward  for  prayers;  the  above 
lady  was  one.  After  we  had  sung  and  prayed 
around  the  three  seekers,  who  were  sitting  on  a 
seat  near  the  middle  of  the  house,  we  sat  down  to 
wait  a  few  moments.  All  at  once  the  young  woman 
began  to  draw  her  breath  so  loud  that  all  in  the 
house  could  hear  her.  She  raised  her  hands  and 
said,  "Lord,  take  my  breath,  but  give  me  Jesus;" 
and  looking  up,  said,  uHe  comes!  he  comes!  O, 
he  has  come!"  and  she  gave  a  shout,  the  only  out- 
burst of  the  meeting.  None  that  was  there  had 
ever  seen  so  clear  a  conversion. 

Next  came  the  baptizing,  two  weeks  after. 
We  had  a  good  man  from  Vermont,  Rev.  Dr. 
Frary,  of  the  Baptist  Church.  He  was  too  old  to 
do  much,  but  did  what  he  could.  His  daughter, 
a  young  lady  of  promise,  was  one  of  our  converts 
When  we  came  to  the  baptism,  he  said  to  me: 
"Brother  Dyer,  do  you  feel  when  you  baptize  by 
immersion  that  it  is  Christian  baptism?"  I  an- 
swered that  I  considered  Christian  baptism  water 
applied  in  the  name  of  the  Trinity,  by  a  properly 
authorized  person ;  and  as  our  rules  allowed  either 
sprinkling,  pouring,  or  immersion,  I  was  willing  to 
give  the  subject  his  choice;  it  was  in  the  line  of 
my  duty  to  perform  it  in  either  way.  He  replied : 
"My  daughter  has  made  a  profession,  and  I  think 
is  sincere,  and  would  like  to  go  with  the  rest,  and 


96  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

I  am  satisfied  for  you  to  baptize  her,  since  we  have 
had  your  explanation."  I  must  say  I  had  never 
seen  it  on  this  wise  before ;  nor  have  I  since.  There 
were  nine  subjects,  and  there  were  seven  preachers 
present,  representing  four  different  Churches.  Our 
Campbellite  brethren  had  come  back  by  this  time. 
All  four  of  them  sat  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
creek,  where  they  could  see.  I  heard  that  they 
said  that  it  was  well  done,  only  one  man's  nose 
was  not  covered.  A  crowd  was  in  attendance. 
The  Christians  only  got  one  that  professed  at  our 
meeting.  They  baptized  several,  left,  and  did  not 
come  back  very  often. 

We  have  always  felt  thankful  to  God  for  this 
blessed  work;  for  it  was  not  by  might  nor  by 
power,  but  by  his  Spirit.  I  have  always  felt  that 
he  verified  his  promise:  " Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway, 
even  unto  the  end  of  the  world."  He  made  a  way 
for  our  escape  in  every  trial,  and  we  had  good 
meetings  every  time  we  came  to  Brownsdale.  My 
heart  says:  " Ne'er  let  old  acquaintance  be  forgot." 

We  had  eight  appointments  on  this  work. 
There  had  been  no  regular  preaching,  if  any,  by 
the  Methodists  in  Austin.  Two  men  had  settled 
three  miles  above  town — Brothers  Clayton  and 
Dobbins — and  there  was  a  class  there.  Here  I  met 
the  Congregational  minister,  and  inquired  if  there 
was  any  place  where  I  could  preach  in  Austin. 
He  said:  "  There  is  but  one  hall,  and  we  occupy  that 
every  other  Lord's  day,  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Gurney 
the  other."  "Well,  could  I  have  it  in  the  after- 
noon, say  two  o'clock?"  "That  is  just  the  time 


CIRCUIT  WORK.  97 

of  our  Sunday-school."  u  Well,  could  I  have  it  at 
five  or  six  o'clock?"  He  lectured  every  Sunday 
at  six  o'clock.  "Well,"  I  remarked,  "I  can  come 
at  three,  at  the  close  of  the  Sunday-school;  will 
you  be  so  good  as  to  announce  it  in  your  service?" 
"  Yes,  he  could."  I  thanked  him  for  his  kindness, 
and  preached  there  through  the  summer.  Rev.  D. 
Cobb  was  presiding  elder.  I  believe  he  only  missed 
one  quarterly  meeting. 

In  early  fall  we  held  a  meeting  at  Brother 
Sargent's  school-house,  two  miles  east  of  Austin. 
There  were  about  forty  forward  for  prayers,  and 
most  of  them  joined  the  Church.  It  was  a  blessed 
time,  through  the  goodness  of  God.  Then  we 
went  to  the  State  line,  six  miles  south  of  Aus- 
tin, where  was  a  mill-dam,  and  three  miles  by 
water  below  was  another,  and  that  backed  the 
river  up  to  the  former,  and  each  had  a  city.  The 
surveys  brought  them  together,  and  of  course  they 
had  a  big  lawsuit,  and  were  in  a  quarrel,  and  ac- 
cused each  other  of  testifying  to  things  not  true. 
They  had  a  school-house,  but  it  was  not  daubed. 
I  helped  them  daub  the  cracks.  We  had  two 
members ;  but  they  gave  me  no  encouragement, 
as  there  was  no  feeling  among  them.  The  people 
were  as  far  as  could  be  from  the  possibility  of  a 
revival.  I  could  only  say:  "In  the  name  of  God, 
we  will  try."  The  two  members  were  feeble,  but 
would  come  all  they  could.  We  held  the  meeting 
two  weeks.  The  house  was  full  every  night,  but 
the  good  attendance  was  all;  and  I  adjourned  in 
about  eight  days  to  attend  a  quarterly  meeting  at 

9 


98  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

Brownsdale.  The  presiding  elder  was  not  there ; 
but,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  we  had  a  good  time. 

I  returned  to  our  meeting.  The  first  night 
some  awfully  big  dogs  got  to  fighting,  and  at  least 
half  a  dozen  got  up  to  go  out.  I  requested  them 
to  stop,  and  told  them  I  would  rather  the  devil 
was  in  the  dogs  than  in  them;  let  them  settle 
their  own  fight.  It  was  not  long  till  they  quit. 
We  soon  saw  signs  of  good.  Several  were  forward 
for  prayer,  and  only  two  of  us  to  pray.  About 
the  third  night  we  prayed  twice  around,  and  were 
at  a  standstill.  I  thought  to  call  on  one  of  the 
seekers.  As  soon  as  asked,  he  raised  his  head 
and  began  to  pray,  and  was  blessed.  Called 
on  another,  and  he  began,  and  the  Lord  con- 
verted him,  and  they  both  gave  clear  evidence. 
During  the  meeting  we  had  about  thirty  converts, 
and  they  were  almost  all  brought  through  trying 
to  pray.  One  old  man  was  reclaimed  who 
had  been  a  preacher  a  number  of  years  before  in 
New  York.  For  a  few  weeks  he  was  very  happy, 
and  then  took  sick  and  died  in  triumph. 

We  went  around  the  circuit  once  or  twice,  and 
then  got  the  use  of  an  empty  store-house  in  Aus- 
tin, put  in  temporary  seats,  and  began  a  protracted 
meeting.  Of  course  we  had  the  Congregational 
preacher  to  help,  and  the  Baptist  also.  We  had 
quite  a  good  meeting,  but  not  as  many  conver- 
sions according  to  the  number  of  people  as  we 
had  in  the  other  places.  Organized  the  first  class 
in  Austin,  with  about  twenty  members.  Held  the 
first  camp-meeting  in  those  parts,  just  above  the 


CIRCUIT  WORK. 


99 


town,  on  Cedar  River,  and  took  in  ten.  One 
rowdy  made  himself  conspicuous.  Brother  G.  W. 
Richardson  came  with  Rev.  D.  Cobb,  presiding 
elder,  to  help.  This  fellow  was  forward  with 
others.  Brother  Richardson  told  me  to  watch 
him;  he  thought  he  was  there  for  no  good.  I 
asked  the  seekers  to  speak.  He  got  up  and  said 
he  had  slept  all  the  time,  but  did  not  know  why 
the  brethren  prayed  for  him  as  though  he  was  not 
sincere.  I  said:  "How  could  you  tell  any  thing 
about  it  if  you  were  asleep?"  About  this  time 
he  was  shoved  out  of  the  altar,  and  told  to  move 
with  a  quick  step.  The  presiding  elder  was  in 
the  stand,  and  said  that  the  man  might  well  be 
denominated  a  three-cent  seeker,  for  he  said  that 
afternoon  he  would  give  that  amount  to  any  one 
who  would  tell  how  to  become  a  convert.  While 
I  was  around  there,  he  went  by  the  name  of  the 
three-cent  seeker.  With  this  exception,  the  order 
was  good,  and  the  results  satisfactory. 

I  had  no  place  on  this  circuit  to  call  home, 
paid  no  board,  and  was  welcome  all  over  the  work. 
This  was  in  1858.  People  were  new  settlers  ;  there 
was  hardly  any  money,  and  it  was  a  remarkably  wet 
year.  Crops  were  poor.  Along  Cedar  River,  where 
they  were  usually  the  best,  the  floods  destroyed 
about  all.  The  river  rose  twenty  feet  in  eight  or  ten 
hours,  and  took  off  all  the  bridges,  stacks  of  grain, 
and  so  flooded  houses  that,  in  some  cases,  the  in- 
mates were  taken  out  at  the  upper  windows.  One 
man  was  awakened,  and  the  water  was  knee-deep. 
He  had  a  trap-door  to  go  into  his  cellar,  and  it 


ioo  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

floated  off,  and,  in  the  dark,  he  stepped  in,  but 
caught  with  his  hands,  or  he  might  have  been 
drowned.  I  had  to  have  a  canoe  to  get  my  old 
horse  over,  for  he  would  not  or  could  not  swim. 
Take  it  altogether,  it  was  a  hard  year.  I  do  n't 
know  what  we  would  have  done,  if  it  had  not 
been  that  the  lakes  all  ran  over  and  carried  mill- 
ions of  fishes  into  all  the  streams.  The  farmers 
would  fill  their  wagons  in  a  few  hours  so  full  of 
the  best  kinds,  that  the  fish  would  roll  off  as  they 
drove  along.  Their  tables  groaned  under  fishes 
fried,  and  baked,  and  stuffed.  The  blackbirds 
were  almost  as  bad  as  grasshoppers.  I  received 
about  fifty  dollars  in  money  and  clothing  in  the 
year. 

I  remember  of  a  temptation  that  was  presented 
to  me  as  I  was  going  to  commence  my  meeting  in 
Austin.  My  coat  was  not  much  but  lining  from 
the  elbow  to  the  wrist  on  the  under  side.  It  came 
like  this :  Now  you  are  going  up  to  town,  and 
your  coat-sleeves  are  thread-worn  to  the  lining. 
But  I  went  and  had  a  good  old  Protestant  Meth- 
odist preach  for  me,  and  I  exhorted.  I  thought  I 
would  tell  on  the  devil  the  first  thing,  and  try  to 
stop  him ;  so  I  told  how  it  was,  and  raised  my  arm 
up  and  said:  "I  am  ready  to  shake  the  last  rag 
over  you."  The  next  day,  to  my  surprise,  Mrs. 
Holt  and  others  took  the  matter  in  hand,  and 
made  me  a  present  of  a  new  coat,  for  which  I  was 
very  thankful,  and  I  have  never  forgotten  their 
kindness.  I  do  n't  know  how  I  should  have  stood 
that  year  through,  only  that  God  in  his  mercy 


CIRCUIT  WORK.  101 

revived  his  work  all  around  the  circuit.  Blessed  be 
his  holy  name! 

About  the  first  of  May  I  started  for  conference, 
which  was  held  at  St.  Anthony ;  Bishop  Baker  pre- 
siding. Traveled  about  one  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  to  the  Mississippi,  and  took  steamboat  for 
the  seat  of  conference.  Every  man  that  came  by 
land  was  almost  covered  with  mud,  and  all  wanted 
a  fall  conference.  Many  of  the  preachers  were 
dissatisfied.  We  had  four  or  five  presiding  elders. 
They  had  two  hundred  dollars  missionary  money 
apiece,  or  more,  and  very  little  was  left  for  the 
poor  circuits.  There  was  a  motion  for  an  addition 
to  the  missionary  committee  of  one  from  each  dis- 
trict. It  prevailed,  and  I  was  appointed  from  our 
district.  It  was  the  first  time  I  had  been  in  the 
cabinet,  and  of  course  I  could  not  do  very  much ; 
but  you  would  better  believe,  the  outside  places 
were  represented  and  pleaded  for.  One  place  must 
have  some  aid,  and  so  they  took  fifty  dollars  from 
a  district  to  which  a  new  elder  was  to  be  appointed, 
and  gave  it  to  the  poor  place;  but  none  present 
offered  a  cent  off  his  own  district  for  any  poor  work. 
The  addition  to  the  committee,  however,  caused  a 
more  equal  and  satisfactory  distribution. 

This  year  I  was  appointed  to  Wabashaw,  Kashaw, 
and  Reed's  Landing.  This  was  a  short  year,  and 
we  had  but  one  revival — at  Cook's  Valley.  It  was 
a  very  good  meeting,  considering  the  thin  settle- 
ment. A  class  of  fifteen  or  twenty  was  formed. 
We  had  good  congregations,  and  kept  up  our  work 
at  each  appointment — there  were  only  three  reg- 


102  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

ular  places.  Every  Sunday  morning  we  preached 
in  Wabashaw,  and  divided  the  afternoons  with  the 
other  places. 

I  remember  in  the  summer  we  heard  that  the 
river  was  out  of  its  banks — that  was  the  Zumbro 
River.  Mr.  Bolton  and  sister  took  me  in  a  buggy 
to  the  edge  of  the  bottom  where  there  was  a  bridge 
gone,  but  it  was  a  mile  to  the  main  river.  I  walked 
the  stringers,  and  went  on  in  hopes  the  bridge  was 
not  taken  off ;  but  it  was  gone,  and  the  river  full  to 
almost  overflowing.  I  thought  for  a  moment  what 
I  had  better  do,  and  concluded  to  make  a  raft  of 
some  planks  that  were  in  the  drift.  I  soon  had  one 
I  thought  would  take  me;  got  a  long  pole  and 
shoved  off,  but  presently  found  myself  in  deep 
water,  where  I  could  not  touch  bottom,  drifting 
down  stream.  There  was  an  island,  and  I  hoped 
the  current  would  carry  me  over;  but  before  I 
reached  the  foot  of  the  island  there  was  a  tall, 
fallen  tree  lying  straight  across  my  course,  and  my 
raft,  in  spite  of  all  I  could  do,  went  under  it.  I 
took  my  boots  in  hand,  and  when  it  went  under, 
jumped  over  the  tree  and  lighted  on  the  raft  all 
right,  and  was  carried  down  nearly  a  mile.  I  saw 
some  boys  on  the  west  shore  in  a  skiff,  and  told 
them  they  might  come  and  take  me  off.  I  left  the 
raft  with  some  satisfaction,  as  I  was  nearing  the 
Mississippi  River,  and  was  about  twenty  minutes 
late  for  my  appointment.  But  the  congregation 
were  waiting  for  the  preacher,  and  we  had  a  good 
time.  Never  was  I  more  thankful  to  get  to  an  ap- 
pointment, and  have  wondered  ever  since  how  I  got 


CIRCUIT  WORK.  103 

over;  but  certainly  the  good  Lord  was  on  my  side 
that  time. 

From  this  place  Brother  Crawley,  Sister  Bolton, 
and  others,  went  up  the  Chippewa  River  on  a 
steamboat,  above  Durand,  to  a  camp-meeting. 
When  we  got  to  the  landing  nearest  Lake  City, 
about  twenty  other  Methodists  got  on  board;  and 
soon  after  our  boat  stuck  on  a  sand-bar,  which  de- 
tained us  some  time;  and  at  dark  we  stopped  for 
the  night,  as  the  water  was  so  low  that  they  feared 
to  run.  There  was  quite  a  number  of  passengers, 
and  some  of  them  were  anxious  to  have  preach- 
ing. We  had  Moses  M.  Strong,  a  lawyer  of  ability, 
with  us,  and  he  and  I  had  lived  neighbors  at 
Mineral  Point.  He  secured  the  privilege  for  me  to 
preach  on  the  boat — the  first  and  only  sermon  I  ever 
preached  on  a  steamboat.  We  had  a  good  time, 
and  good  singing  that  echoed  from  bank  to  bank. 

Next  day  we  landed  where  I  had  been  directed ; 
but  they  had  changed  the  place  three  miles,  and 
we  had  to  go  through  the  woods,  and  my  com- 
pany began  to  complain  that  I  had  taken  them 
out  into  the  desert  and  lost  them.  I  thought  of 
Moses,  and  suspected  that  I  felt  a  very  little  as  he 
did;  but  we  got  there  all  the  same,  and  found 
Rev.  C.  Hobart,  the  presiding  elder,  in  charge.  He 
at  once  asked  me  to  preach.  I  took  the  subject 
of  the  prodigal  son,  as  we  had  been  lost,  but  got 
to  camp-meeting  all  safe  and  sound.  Suffice  it  to 
say,  we  had  a  good  meeting,  were  refreshed,  and 
returned  in  safety  to  Wabashaw;  and  went  the 
rounds  of  the  circuit  two  or  three  times  after  that. 


104  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

This  was  a  short  year — from  May  to  October. 
Conference  was  at  Prescott.  Bishop  Janes  pre- 
sided. It  was  a  memorable  time,  a  season  of  real 
enjoyment  to  most  of  the  preachers.  On  Sunday 
there  was  a  good  love-feast,  and  the  bishop  was 
blessed  in  his  sermon.  I  never  have  seen  as  gen- 
eral enjoyment  in  a  conference,  before  or  since; 
everybody  was  happy  in  the  love  of  God ;  almost 
all  forgot  the  hard  times  and  the  losses  and  crosses 
that  had  been  endured. 

Here  I  received  my  appointment  to  Dunville 
and  Menominee  Circuit,  with  Brother  J.  S.  Ander- 
son. It  was  a  large  circuit.  Brother  Anderson 
was  much  discouraged,  and  went  to  Eau  Claire  to 
quarterly  meeting  to  see  the  presiding  elder, 
Chauncey  Hobart,  D.  D.  The  elder  did  not  come, 
and  he  made  a  bargain  with  the  official  board  to 
preach  for  them,  and  let  Brother  Thomas  Harwood 
come  and  travel  with  me.  Accordingly  Brother 
Harwood  came.  I  was  well  pleased  with  the  trade, 
but  he  had  been  asked  to  go  up  to  Chippewa  Falls 
and  form  a  new  circuit.  I  had  to  go  to  Lake 
Pepin,  and  told  him  I  would  go  and  see  the  pre- 
siding elder,  and  lay  the  case  before  him.  The 
elder  wrote  Brother  Harwood  to  stay  with  me  or 
go  to  Chippewa  Falls,  whichever  he  chose.  We 
talked  the  matter  over,  and  concluded  it  was  best 
for  him  to  go,  and  I  would  do  what  I  could  alone. 
I  say  right  here,  it  worked  well  for  both  of  us ;  for 
he  did  a  good  work,  and  I  was  told  during  the 
year,  by  two  of  the  official  board,  that  it  was  the 
last  time  they  would  allow  such  a  transaction. 


CIRCUIT  WORK.  105 

To  show  their  repentance,  after  a  year  the 
quarterly  conference  passed  a  resolution  that,  if 
the  conference  saw  fit  in  their  wisdom  to  return 
him,  they  would  receive  Brother  Harwood  with 
pleasure.  This  year's  acquaintance  with  Brother 
Harwood  was  no  doubt  the  cause  of  his  subse- 
quently being  a  missionary  to  New  Mexico. 

We  commenced  our  work  in  earnest.  Dun- 
ville,  Ogalla,  Waubeek,  Massey's  and  Kyle's 
School-houses,  Menominee,  Mud  Prairie,  or  Harsh- 
man's,  and  several  other  places,  we  included  in 
our  plan;  preaching  three  times  each  Sunday  and 
three  through  the  week.  In  early  winter  we  began 
our  revival  services,  first  at  Kyle's.  Held  four 
weeks,  with  forty  seekers,  the  most  of  whom  were 
converted  and  formed  into  a  class.  At  Ogalla, 
about  twenty  were  brought  in  and  joined  the 
Church — a  class.  At  Menominee  Mills  we  had  a 
good  meeting,  and  formed  a  class  of  over  twenty. 
At  Brother  Harshman's,  a  class  of  about  ten ;  held 
a  week,  and  took  in  six  new  converts.  We  held 
meetings  a  few  times  at  other  places,  and  marked 
attention  was  given  to  the  word.  At  Massey's 
School-house  there  was  quite  a  class,  and  we  had 
meeting  over  a  week.  Rev.  C.  Hobart  was  with 
us  a  few  days,  and  preached  to  our  delight.  Sev- 
eral were  brought  in  and  joined  the  Church.  We 
held  a  camp-meeting  at  the  lower  end  of  the  cir- 
cuit, Rev.  C.  Hobart,  presiding  elder,  in  charge. 
It  was  a  good  meeting,  but  attended  with  no 
such  wonderful  displays  of  mercy  as  are  some- 
times seen. 


io6  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

I  took  a  trip  to  Rice  Lake,  and  found  only 
Chippewa  Indians,  about  twenty  in  number.  This 
was  in  the  summer  of  1860.  The  fallen  timber 
made  it  impossible  to  go  forward  on  my  horse 
farther  than  within  a  mile  and  a  half  of  the  out- 
let of  the  lake.  Moreover,  the  green-headed  horse- 
flies and  mosquitoes  set  him  nearly  crazy.  I 
should  have  had  to  abandon  the  trip  had  I  not 
luckily  found  a  logger's  stable,  in  which  I  -left 
him,  comparatively  secure  from  these  insects.  I 
went  on  foot  the  rest  of  the  way,  and  found  it 
very  difficult  to  get  through  the  fallen  timber  and 
the  young  growth;  but  finally  reached  the  lake, 
about  half-way  up.  I  saw  two  Indian  squaws  in 
a  canoe,  and  motioned  to  them.  They  were  fish- 
ing with  hooks.  I  discovered  that  they  saw  me, 
although  they  did  not  move.  I  then  took  out  a 
half-dollar,  holding  it  between  my  thumb  and 
finger,  and  they  at  once  came  to  my  relief.  I  was 
glad  they  did  so,  for  the  mosquitoes  and  green- 
headed  horse  or  deer  flies  were  almost  intolerable, 
lancing  me  at  will  through  my  thin  coat,  and  set- 
ting me  on  fire. 

The  squaws  paddled  me  down  to  the  outlet 
of  the  lake.  The  water  was  about  half  covered 
with  wild  rice,  which  was  quite  an  item  of  sus- 
tenance for  the  Indians.  I  was  told  that,  in  gath- 
ering it,  they  ran  their  canoes  right  among  it. 
It  stood  two  feet  above  the  water,  and  was  easily 
thrashed  off  into  the  canoe.  It  was  a  Godsend  to 
them  in  this  wilderness  country.  But  the  squaws 
did  not  allow  me  to  get  into  the  canoe  until  they 


CIRCUIT  WORK.  107 

got  the  money,  and  when  my  fare  was  paid  they 
quickly  rowed  me  down  to  the  outlet. 

Here  were  about  twenty  Indians,  including 
squaws  and  papooses,  all  dressed  in  Indian  cos- 
tume, so  far  as  they  were  dressed  at  all.  Two  or 
three  men  were  the  oldest-looking  human  beings 
I  had  ever  seen — hardly  looked  like  men.  Their 
appearance  made  an  impression  on  my  mind  that 
has  never  been  effaced. 

Now  my  horse  was  at  Grover's  logging-camp, 
at  least  one  and  a  half  miles  below,  on  Hay  River, 
and  the  fallen  timber  impossible  to  cross,  and  I 
could  see  no  way  to  get  there  but  to  have  some 
of  the  Indians  take  me  in  a  canoe.  There  was  a 
half-breed  Frenchman  who  could  speak  an  En- 
glish word  or  two.  He  and  two  others  undertook 
the  trip.  While  they  were  launching  the  boat,  I 
looked  out  westerly,  and  through  the  heavy  tim- 
ber saw  an  unusually  black  cloud,  accompanied 
by  heavy  thunder,  coming  fast.  I  watched  the 
Indians  and  the  cloud,  and  made  motions  for  them 
to  row  faster;  but  about  half-way  they  began  to 
talk,  and  stopped  altogether.  I  tried  to  urge  them 
on,  but  one  of  them  said  in  broken  English,  "One 
dollar  and  quarter,"  over  and  over.  I  was  in  a 
close  place;  an  awful  storm  coming,  and  the  boat 
standing  still.  So  of  course  I  paid  the  bill, 
and  they  started,  and  soon  we  met  another  In- 
dian, and  they  stopped  and  traded  me  off,  and 
made  me  get  into  his  canoe.  The  terrible  storm 
kept  coming,  and  he  got  near  Grover's  cabin,  and 
stopped  and  gave  signs  of  wanting  his  pay,  and  I 


io8  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

gave  him  a  twenty-five  cent  piece,  and  he  barely 
made  out  to  row  me  into  camp,  just  as  the  rain 
began  to  come  in  torrents.  Such  thunder  was 
seldom  heard;  but  there  was  enough  dry  ground 
for  me  to  sleep  on,  with  some  old  hay  for  a  bed. 
I  had  only  a  piece  of  bread  and  butler  for  my 
supper,  nothing  for  breakfast,  and  about  twenty 
miles  to  the  old  Hay  River  settlement,  which  was 
left  to  the  west  of  me  as  I  went  out. 

Here  was  the  battle-field  between  the  Chippe- 
was  and  Sioux  Indians  some  time  before.  I  saw 
where  the  bullets  had  lodged  in  trees  and  stumps. 
There  was  a  settlement  of  old  loggers,  who,  when 
the  logging  camps  were  moved  farther  up,  staid 
and  farmed.  I  went  around,  got  them  all  out,  and 
preached  to  them  as  best  I  could — thirty-five  all 
told.  As  it  was  the  first  service  of  any  kind  in 
that  place,  they  were  all  attention.  There  was  a 
Mr.  Tiffany,  from  New  York  State,  who  had  lived 
up  there  many  years,  who  came  to  the  cabin  door, 
and  leaned  up  against  the  wall  almost  spell-bound 
through  the  entire  discourse.  I  had  a  talk  with 
him.  He  told  me  this  was  the  only  preaching  he 
had  heard  for  twenty-two  years,  and  then  he  heard 
Mr.  Littlejohn,  of  New  York.  He  had  worked 
upon  a  creek  making  shingles  so  long,  that  they 
called  it  Tiffany  Creek.  He  seemed  to  be  a  man 
of  intelligence ;  but  so  far  they  had  had  no  schools 
or  preaching. 

From  here  I  made  my  way  to  Menominee 
Mills — Knapp,  Stout  &  Co.'s  large  saw  and  grist 
mills — over  twenty  miles.  I  rode  into  Hay  River 


CIRCUIT  WORK.  109 

where  it  was  swimming  deep,  and  got  all  wet.  This 
was  a  well-managed  company,  headed  by  Captain 
Wilson,  who  was  one  of  the  firm.  The  company 
had  quite  a  town,  and  carried  on  the  manufacturing 
of  lumber,  shingles,  and  laths.  There  was  also  a 
large  flooring-mill.  Three  hundred  men  were 
employed,  quite  a  number  of  whom  had  families. 
All  rented  of  the  company,  who  had  a  very  large 
store,  which  supplied  their  town  and  the  surround- 
ing country.  This  was  a  regular  preaching-place. 
Among  the  men,  there  was  one  who  doubtless 
had  some  thoughts  on  an  equalization  of  capital 
and  labor,  and  was  somewhat  fond  of  fun.  One 
day,  while  there  was  a  throng  around  the  stove, 
he  remarked  that  he  had  a  dream  the  night  before, 
which  was  so  singular  that  he  could  not  get  it  off 
his  mind.  Some  were  curious  to  hear  it,  and 
pressed  him  to  tell  it.  He  refused,  until  the  re- 
quest became  general,  when  he  said  he  feared  that 
the  company  would  not  like  it.  He  was  assured 
that  they  would  take  it  all  right.  Then  he  began 
by  saying  that,  while  in  a  sound  sleep,  he  thought 
the  devil  came  after  him  and  was  determined  to 
take  him.  He  prayed  and  begged,  and  asked  if 
there  was  something  he  could  do  that  might  give 
him  time.  Two  or  three  things  the  devil  told 
him,  which,  if  he  would  do,  he  would  let  him  off. 
The  first:  "You  raise  that  mill-dam  and  start  the 
water  to  running  up  the  other  way."  He  did  that, 
and  then  asked  what  next.  "You  carry  those 
mills  up  to  the  top  of  that  hill."  It  was  so  steep 
that  it  would  have  been  as  much  as  a  goat  could 


no  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

do  to  get  up,  but  he  did  it  well;  and  the  devil 
said:  "You  are  a  captain.''  "What  next?"  he  in- 
quired. "Now,"  said  the  devil,  "I  want  you  to 
show  me  a  company  this  side  of  hell  that  can  sell 
goods  at  as  high  a  price  as  Napp,  Stout  &  Co." 
He  gave  it  up  in  despair,  for  it  could  not  be  done. 
Then  he  awoke,  and  was  glad  that  it  was  only  a 
dream. 

The  truth  was,  when  they  paid  their  rent 
and  paid  their  store-bills,  men  had  nothing  left. 
Times  were  hard  all  over  the  country  in  1860,  and 
if  anything  was  made,  it  was  by  the  company. 
They  were  the  only  company  that  I  knew  of  that 
did  not  go  down  with  the  crash  of  1857. 

My  first  appointment  here  I  shall  not  forget. 
It  had  been  set  for  Sunday  evening.  I  as  usual 
was  on  hand,  and  put  up  at  Mr.  Bullard's,  who 
kept  the  boarding-house.  The  company  and  the 
whole  town  were  generous.  The  stable  was  free 
for  the  preacher's  horse,  and  the  toll-bridge  was 
free  for  the  preacher.  I  walked  over  to  Captain 
Wilson's  before  meeting.  The  conference  had  not 
sent  the  preachers  he  wanted,  and  he  put  in  his 
complaint  that  the  Methodist  Church  had  not  used 
them  as  he  thought  they  deserved.  They  had 
preaching  only  seldom,  and  some  of  it  on  week- 
day evenings,  and  so  he  had  engaged  a  Congrega- 
tional preacher,  and  would  dispense  with  our 
services.  I  remarked  that  I  should  like  to  attend 
the  services  this  time.  He  assented,  and  we 
walked  together  without  a  word.  But  mental 
prayer  was  my  preparation.  When  we  got  to 


CIRCUIT  WORK.  in 

the  school-house  it  was  jam-full.  I  thought  if  this 
was  the  last  as  well  as  the  first,  I  must,  through 
the  grace  of  God,  do  my  best.  Sure  enough,  God 
helped  me,  and  I  rose  far  above  myself,  and  a 
more  attentive  people  need  not  come  together. 
At  the  close  I  remarked  that  this  was  likely  the 
last  time,  and  then  told  them  what  the  captain 
had  said  to  me,  right  in  his  presence,  that  they 
were  soon  to  have  another  preacher,  but  that  if 
they  wished  it,  I  could  come  once  in  two 
weeks  till  the  other  arrived.  I  asked  an  expres- 
sion from  the  congregation.  Mr.  Bullard  said  to 
Captain  Wilson,  "I  think  we  had  as  well  let  Mr. 
Dyer  come  for  awhile,"  and  he  assented,  and  we 
went  through  the  year. 

Next  morning,  Captain  Wilson  and  I  met,  and 
he  said :  "  Mr.  Dyer,  you  seem  to  be  a  plain,  matter- 
of-fact  man,  and  I  want  you  to  make  my  house 
your  home ;  and  when  we  get  tired  of  you  we  will 
tell  you."  "Thank  you,  Captain  Wilson,  I  will 
certainly  feel  at  home  with  you  and  your  family." 
His  wife  was  an  excellent  lady,  and  his  daughters 
very  accomplished.  I  must  say  it  was  a  pleasant 
home,  and  a  weary  itinerant  enjoyed  it. 

This  place  was  a  green  spot  on  our  charge ;  all 
seemed  to  be  friends,  and  we  formed  a  class.  Mrs. 
Wilson  united  with  us,  and  others  to  the  number 
of  twenty.  I  enjoyed  visits  with  Mr.  Bullard  and 
wife  also.  He  gave  me  an  incident  of  one  of  his 
Indian  friends.  This  old  Indian  was  taken  sick 
there,  and  expected  to  die.  It  was  a  very  cold 
winter,  and  the  ground  froze  four  feet.  Before  he 


ii2  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

died  he  requested  Mr.  Bullard  to  have  him  buried 
like  a  white  man,  and  he  wanted  him  to  buy  his 
squaw  two  gallons  of  whisky  so  she  would  "cry 
heap."  When  it  came  to  digging  the  grave,  the 
ground  was  so  frozen  that  it  could  hardly  be  done. 
There  were  several  Indian  tents  at  hand,  and  one 
of  the  Indians  offered  to  take  his  tent  away  so 
that  he  could  dig  the  grave  where  his  fire  had 
been  all  the  winter,  and  where  it  would  be  com- 
paratively easy  to  dig.  There  he  buried  his  In- 
dian friend. 

We  felt  we  had  many  friends  on  this  charge. 
There  were  Carson  Saton  at  Ogalla,  with  others, 
on  that  end  of  the  circuit ;  and  Mother  Massie  and 
her  family;  Brother  William  Massie  and  his  wife. 
For  a  number  of  years  William  Massie  has  been 
an  itinerant  preacher  in  West  Wisconsin  Confer- 
ence. I  don't  know  but  I  did  something  to  set 
him  out,  because  he  saw  what  small  talents  I  had, 
and  yet  was  able  to  do  some  good.  There  was 
my  old  friend  Lewis;  but  while  I  was  there  he 
had  not  seen  his  way  clear  to  come  out  in  re- 
ligion. At  Mud  Prairie  was  Brother  Harshman. 

Here  was  an  incident  that  occurred  through 
whisky:  There  was  a  man  brought  some  of  the 
liquid  fire  to  sell.  Three  men  came  with  a  jug, 
and  got  it  filled  with  whisky  and  molasses  about 
twice.  They  lived  two  miles  up  the  Prairie;  had 
a  wagon  and  yoke  of  oxen ;  all  got  in,  and  the 
oxen  went  home ;  two  of  the  three  got  out.  The 
woman  saw  they  were  deathly  sick;  she  adminis- 
tered warm  water  and  set  them  to  vomiting,  which 


CIRCUIT  WORK.  113 

helped  them ;  and  about  the  time  they  had  thrown 
up  their  "black-strap,"  a  little  boy  came,  and  said: 
"Mother,  there  is  another  man  out  in  the  wagon." 
She  went  and  found  him  dead.  They  sent  for  a 
doctor;  but  it  was  too  late  to  do  anything  but  an- 
alyze the  whisky.  He  said  enough  of  it  would 
kill  anybody.  The  saloon-man  ran  away,  leaving 
the  key  with  a  neighbor.  All  that  loved  the  whisky 
were  in  trouble,  because  of  fear.  By  chance,  a 
Negro  came  along.  The  neighbor  called  him  and 
gave  him  a  glass,  and  the  darkey  passed  on ;  and 
the  man  followed  him  forty  rods  around  the  corner. 
He  was  asked  what  he  was  following  him  for?  He 
replied:  "I  gave  him  a  glass  of  that  whisky,  and  I 
thought  if  it  did  not  kill  him  before  he  got  out  of 
sight,  I  would  take  some."  Brother  T.  Harwood 
was  here  on  a  visit,  and  preached  at  the  funeral 
of  the  unfortunate  white  man.  How  sad  to  think 
of  the  destruction  wrought  by  whisky ! 

We  had  a  man  and  his  wife  who  joined  the 
Church  this  year,  and  who  had  some  grown  chil- 
dren. One,  a  son  at  home,  came  to  get  me  to 
marry  him.  He  said  that  his  father  would  be  mad, 
and  that  I  must  go  to  meet  him  at  his  brother-in- 
law's,  Rev.  Stubbs.  After  the  ceremony,  he  said 
he  wanted  me  to  do  all  I  could  for  him;  for  he 
must  take  his  wife  home,  as  he  had  no  other  place 
to  take  her.  I  went  to  the  school-house,  and  gave 
out  a  prayer-meeting  at  his  father's,  and  went  in 
advance  to  see  the  old  folks.  O,  how  mad  they 
were !  I  gave  them  all  the  consolation  I  could,  and 
told  the  girls  that  we  must  kill  some  chickens  and 

10 


ii4  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

make  a  big  supper.  We  caught  some ;  and  soon 
the  bridal  party  came.  The  old  gentleman  would 
not  speak  to  them;  but  we  all  ate  at  the  same 
table,  and  after  this  came  the  prayer-meeting. 
Quite  a  number  came,  and  all  prayed  around ;  and 
at  last,  I  called  on  the  mad  father,  an  Irishman, 
and  he  prayed  for  us  all,  and  said:  "Lord,  have 
mercy  on  this  new  married  couple.  O  Lord,  thou 
knowest  I  had  nothing  in  the  world  to  do  with  it." 
The  next  morning  we  found  him  so  far  blessed 
that  he  spoke  to  them,  and  soon  ordered  lumber  to 
build  a  house  for  them,  and  gave  eighty  acres  of 
land  to  build  it  on. 

By  this  time  we  were  set  off  in  a  new  confer- 
ence, called  North-west  Wisconsin.  We  were  or- 
ganized at  Sparta  by  Bishop  Scott.  We  were  not 
large  in  numbers,  and  but  few  if  any  among  us 
claimed  great  ability;  but  all  were  self-sacrificing 
men,  in  a  new,  rough,  timbered  country,  with  times 
hard  and  many  of  the  people  poor.  But  we  went 
to  work.  I  was  appointed  to  Mindora  Circuit; 
filled  all  the  appointments ;  held  some  special  serv- 
ices. A  few  were  converted  at  one  point,  I  was 
only  on  the  work  about  four  months,  when  I  was 
taken  with  sore  eyes.  I  still  kept  up  my  work  until 
April ;  not  able  to  read — could  hardly  read  my  let- 
ters; stood  in  front  of  the  light  at  night;  had  the 
lids  of  my  eyes  turned  over  and  burnt  with  caustic, 
and  concluded  to  quit  and  rest  awhile.  I  took  a 
note  from  my  presiding  elder/  stating  the  cause  of 
leaving  my  work,  and  with  my  youngest  boy,  who 
was  at  school  in  Galesville  University,  went  by  the 


CIRCUIT  WORK.  115 

way  of  Eau  Claire  to  Dunville.  My  son  stayed  with 
Brother  F.  Massie  until  the  gathering  war-cloud 
burst,  when  he  enlisted  in  the  Fifth  Wisconsin 
Regiment. 

I  might  have  given  some  names  on  this  work, 
had  not  my  memorandum-book  been  lost.  Brother 
Barber  was  one  of  the  official  members.  T.  C. 
Golden  was  presiding  elder.  I  crossed  the  Mis- 
sissippi at  Reed's  Landing,  with  Brother  C.  Ho- 
bart,  D.  D.  He  rowed,  and  I  dipped  water,  for 
our  skiff  leaked.  The  river  was  very  rough,  but 
the  Doctor  was  a  good  hand  with  the  oars,  and  we 
got  over  safe,  and  parted  at  Reed's  Landing.  This 
was  the  last  I  saw  of  him  till  we  met  in  1868  at 
Chicago  in  the  General  Conference. 

I  made  my  way  through  Minnesota  to  Lenora, 
where  my  daughter  lived.  There  I  closed  up  my 
business,  or  rather  closed  out  and  paid  out  all  my 
effects  that  had  been  left,  and  was  minus  over  five 
hundred  dollars  in  one  place,  owed  two  hundred 
in  another,  and  had  a  good  horse,  saddle,  and 
bridle,  a  few  little  things  in  a  carpet-sack — Bible, 
hymn-book,  Discipline  of  our  Church,  and  a  copy 
of  Lorain's  Sea  Sermons,  with  a  change  of  linen, 
and  fourteen  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents  in  sil- 
ver and  gold.  I  received  about  fifty  dollars  in  the 
half  year,  and  had  collected  about  fifteen  dollars  for 
periodicals.  There  being  a  crash  with  some  of  our 
banks,  that  much  was  sent  back  to  me  from  the 
Book  Concern,  which  I  afterwards  made  good.  I 
traded  about  twenty  paper  dollars  that  I  could  not 
pass  at  any  per  cent  in  hard  money,  for  about 


n6  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

seven  dollars  in  a  coat.  I  had  gone  security  on 
two  notes,  paid  one,  and  gave  my  house  and  some 
lots  for  over  four  hundred  dollars  on  the  other, 
and  yet  owed  about  seven  hundred,  and  my  cred- 
itor wanted  me  to  give  him  my  horse,  or  wanted 
to  take  it.  I  had  received  seven  appointments, 
and  attended  to  them  as  best  I  could ;  brought 
about  sixteen  hundred  dollars  to  Minnesota,  be- 
sides what  I  received.  No  man  can  realize  just 
how  I  felt,  unless  he  has  been  at  some  time  in  the 
same  situation.  There  was  no  extravagance, 
either,  except  in  going  security. 


PIKE'S  PEAK  AND  WESTWARD.          117 


CHAPTER  VI. 

PIKE'S  PEAK  AND  WESTWARD. 

I  HAD  made  up  my  mind  to  see  Pike's  Peak; 
that  was,  if  I  could  see  at  all,  as  I  had  to  wet 
my  eyes  and  wipe  them  to  get  them  open  every 
morning.  I  had  a  bottle  of  Sloan's  Instant  Re- 
lief that  I  used  every  day,  and  my  friends  said, 
"You  will  put  your  eyes  out  on  the  plains,"  and 
advised  me  not  to  go.  Added  to  blindness,  my 
means  ($14.75)  were  scanty;  but  I  had  made  up 
my  mind  to  go — if  I  did  not  starve  on  the  way — 
and  felt  that  my  Heavenly  Father  would  provide, 
and  that  my  bread  and  water  were  sure. 

On  the  ninth  day  of  May,  1861,  I  left  Lenora 
on  a  splendid  riding  animal.  Omaha  was  my  first 
place  of  destination. 

As  I  left  Minnesota,  I  could  but  reflect  on  the 
six  years  passed  in  that  new  country.  First,  I 
counted  up  over  five  hundred  penitents  whom  I 
had  seen  at  the  altar,  and  most  of  whom  had  pro- 
fessed conversion.  I  had  been  the  first  preacher 
in  many  places,  and  formed  societies;  and  in  this 
I  praised  God  for  his  goodness  in  making  me  his 
instrument  in  doing  some  good.  Then,  looking 
at  my  financial  condition,  I  could  see  no  way  out; 
but  I  had  given  all  my  property  up,  and  had  one 
consolation,  and  that  was,  that  I  had  intended  to 
wrong  no  one,  and  cared  less  for  what  was  gone 


n8  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

than  that  I  was  unable  to  pay  at  once  all  claims 
against  me.  I  held  myself  fully  committed  to  pay 
every  cent  as  soon  as  I  could  make  it.  I  rode 
that  day  forty-seven  miles.  I  stopped  with  a 
partial  acquaintance  for  the  night.  We  had  seen 
each  other  several  times.  I  asked  for  my  bill. 
He  looked  down  his  nose,  and  said,  "  Twenty-five 
cents." 

From  that  to  Newtown,  Iowa,  I  made  fifty 
miles  a  day;  rested  Sunday  at  the  above  place. 
Before  eating,  I  fed  and  took  care  of  my  horse; 
but  while  at  breakfast,  the  landlord  saw  my  mare 
was  about  to  disturb  a  sitting  hen,  and  took  her 
into  another  stall  where  there  was  a  peck  of  corn. 
As  the  result,  she  was  foundered  almost  to  death. 
I  mention  this  because  the  hen  worth  six  cents,  a 
dozen  of  eggs  four  cents,  and  his  saving  ten  cents, 
cost  me  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  I  led  her 
a  few  miles  and  sold  her  for  a  gun,  an  old  watch, 
and  fifteen  dollars,  a  very  little  more  than  the 
saddle  and  bridle  were  worth. 

I  stopped  a  day  at  Omaha,  and  there  was  a 
train  of  eighteen  wagons  starting  for  Pike's  Peak. 
One  of  the  men  agreed  to  board  me  across  for 
fifteen  dollars,  and  haul  my  carpet-sack  and  gun. 
I  was  to  walk.  We  set  out  for  six  hundred  miles, 
as  it  was  called.  A  Mr.  Penny  bossed  the  train. 
We  got  to  Fremont  about  ten  o'clock  on  Sunday 
morning.  I  was  told  they  would  have  preaching 
at  eleven  o'clock.  I  staid  to  hear,  and  was  asked 
to  preach  at  the  afternoon  service,  and  did  so.  I 
thought  it  would  be  easy  to  overtake  an  ox-team,  as 


PIKE'S  PEAK  AND  WESTWARD.          119 

that  was  the  last  settlement  between  the  Missouri 
River  and  the  Rocky  Mountains.  I  had  about 
thirty  hearers.  I  staid  all  night,  and  caught  up 
with  the  train. 

There  were  a  few  soldiers  at  Fort  Kearney.  I 
exercised  myself  with  two  or  three  trips  out  to  the 
Bluffs,  four  or  five  miles.  I  wanted  to  see  a 
buffalo,  but  never  got  sight  of  one,  much  less  a 
chance  to  shoot  one. 

About  seventy-five  miles  below  Julesburg,  we 
came  to  a  house  made  of  cedar  logs,  just  built, 
and  it  was  on  Sunday.  Our  train  stopped,  and 
my  company  said  if  I  would  preach  they  could 
get  the  privilege  of  the  house.  It  was  so  ar- 
ranged. There  were  others  there  besides  our 
company  of  twenty  men,  which  made  in  all  forty 
very  attentive  hearers.  After  it  was  over,  our 
boys  concluded  I  was  disgraced,  for  it  was  a  house 
of  ill-fame.  I  replied  that  if  it  was,  I  had  had 
forty  whore-mongers  to  one  woman.  They  did 
not  bother  me  any  more.  Those  who  live  in  glass 
houses  must  not  throw  stones. 

We  frequently  met  with  Indians.  The  poor 
creatures  had  learned  to  swear.  What  a  pity  the 
white  men  had  no  better  manners  than  to  teach 
them  to  blaspheme! 

One  day  we  came  to  a  station  where  there 
were  a  number  of  camps,  and  a  lot  of  drunken 
men  tearing  around.  A  fat  dog  belonging  to  the 
train  began  to  stagger,  and  soon  died.  It  was 
thought  he  got  strychnine.  The  Indians  saw  him 
kicking  his  last,  and  offered  twenty-five  cents  for 


120  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

him.  They  skinned  and  cooked  him,  and  soon  had 
dog-soup. 

Here  a  drunken  man  came  into  our  corral  and 
claimed  one  of  our  oxen.  Swore  he  would  have 
him,  holding  his  gun  at  a  ready.  I  stood  at  one 
end  to  help,  and  had  a  big  ox-gad.  He  ran  toward 
me.  I  raised  the  gad  and  told  him  to  get  out  of 
there,  and  made  at  him,  and  he  got  out  at  the 
nearest  gap.  I  looked  around,  and  not  a  man 
was  to  be  seen ;  they  all  were  scared.  This  proved 
quite  a  brevet  to  me. 

We  reached  Julesburg,  and  there  took  the  cut- 
off— a  new  road — which  a  company  had  opened, 
having  bridged  two  or  three  sand-creeks  with 
poles,  and  put  up  a  toll-gate,  and  of  course  adver- 
tised the  cut-off.  This  meant — "  Do  n't  follow  the- 
Platte  River,  and  you  will  soon  be  in  Denver." 
The  trail  was  not  yet  worn  smooth,  and  it  seemed 
long  and  tedious. 

One  day,  as  we  were  taking  our  lunch,  a  Ger- 
man said:  "I  believes  dese  cut-offs  is  one  cut-on" 
It  struck  us  all,  for  we  began  to  think  it  about  so, 
since  we  were  all  foot-sore,  as  well  as  the  oxen, 
and  nothing  to  break  the  monotony.  The  day 
before  we  got  through,  we  stopped  to  water  the 
cattle.  I  asked  my  team-boss  if  I  should  make 
some  coffee.  He  was  mad,  because  one  of  his 
oxen  was  not  likely  to  get  water,  and  swore  at  me. 
My  offer  was  gratis,  for  I  had  not  agreed  to  do 
any  thing,  but  had  done  many  little  things  to 
assist  the  boys.  When  I  told  him  he  had  as  well 
stop  his  abuse,  he  said  that  he  did  not  care  for 


PIKE'S  PEAK  AND  WESTWARD.          121 

my  profession,  and  would  thrash  me.  Of  course 
I  told  him  he  could  not  do  that,  and  said  I  did  not 
want  to  dirty  my  hands  with  him,  but  that  he 
ought  to  be  slapped  in  the  mouth.  By  this  time 
some  of  the  boys  spoke  to  him,  and  he  shut  up. 
I  had  got  almost  through,  and  had  not  had  a  hard 
word  with  any  of  the  company.  In  fact,  I  believe 
that,  without  an  exception,  they  would  have  de- 
fended me  to  the  last,  if  necessary. 

Now  we  came  to  the  last  night  on  the  plains. 
I  had  two  pairs  of  pants,  about  half  worn.  I  had 
left  my  pocket-knife  and  purse  in  the  pocket  in 
the  pair  that  was  in  the  wagon  that  night,  and 
when  I  took  them  out,  found  the  contents  all  gone. 
Well,  the  loss  was  small,  as  it  was  less  than  two 
dollars  and  a-half;  but  it  was  all  I  had,  and  I  was 
consoled  in  the  fact  that  I  was  no  worse  off  than 
I  would  have  been  if  it  had  been  five  thousand 
dollars.  We  stopped  two  miles  up  Cherry  Creek, 
above  Denver.  I  took  what  I  had  in  my  carpet- 
sack,  and,  with  my  gun  on  my  shoulder,  walked 
into  the  town,  and  met  my  second  son  Elias,  who 
had  come  a  year  before.  He  was  working  in  Mr. 
Sprague's  store  in  West  Denver.  That  was  almost 
all  of  Denver,  the  2oth  of  June,  1861.  Suffice 
it  to  say,  I  was  surprised  to  see — so  far  from  any 
other  place — so'  much  of  a  village;  and  I  have 
seldom,  if  ever,  seen  any  one  since  who  has  not 
been  similarly  surprised  when  he  sets  his  eyes  in 
Denver  for  the  first  time.  Why  should  it  not  sur- 
pass his  expectation,  after  traveling  six  hundred 
miles  across  what  was  called  the  American  Desert, 

ii 


122  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

with  only  here  and  there  a  small  sod  tenement 
about  seven  feet  high,  all  at  once  to  come  to  the 
metropolis  of  Pike's  Peak? 

Denver  was  nearly  all  on  the  west  side,  only  a 
few  brick  houses  on  the  east  side,  and  a  few  build- 
ings on  Blake  Street ;  and  Wm.  N.  Byers,  on 
neither  side,  as  his  building  was  in  the  middle  of 
Cherry  Creek,  attached  to  the  lower  side  of  the 
bridge. 

After  visiting  with  my  son  a  few  hours,  I 
crossed  the  bridge  where  the  printing-office  was  in 
operation,  and  saw  the  name  of  Byers,  which  was 
familiar  to  me  in  my  youth.  I  met  the  man, 
asked  him  about  his  birthplace,  and  he  replied: 
"Madison  County,  Ohio."  I  said:  "You  were  born 
in  1830,  either  in  February  or  March."  He  told 
which,  r.nd  it  appeared  we  had  been  raised  within 
four  miles  of  each  other,  but  I  had  left  when 
he  was  only  six  months  old;  but  soon  I  met 
Daniel  Andrews,  who  kept  the  Chicago  House. 
We  had  been  near  neighbors  in  Illinois. 

On  Sunday  evening  I  was  invited  to  preach  by 
Rev.  Mr.  Kenny,  the  newly  arrived  preacher  for 
Denver,  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church.  I 
remember  the  subject  was  repentance,  and  in 
speaking  of  the  full  surrender  of  a  sinner  to  God 
in  order  to  his  being  taken  back 4  into  favor,  de- 
clared that  it  must  be  unconditional;  and  as  I  had 
just  heard  of  our  war  being  a  reality,  I  illustrated 
by  what  terms  would  be  granted  the  rebels — they 
never  could  be  received  back  except  on  uncondi- 
tional surrender — and  added,  that  though  it  might 


PIKE'S  PEAK  AND  WESTWARD. 


123 


be  through  fire  and  blood,  it  would  come.  And  as 
there  was  much  feeling  on  the  subject  just  then,  sev- 
eral in  the  audience  rose  to  their  feet  in  sympathy 
with  the  patriotic  sentiment.  The  remarks  were 
more  prophetic  than  the  speaker  was  aware  of  at 
the  time,  but  he  always  believed  that  such  an  end 
of  the  Rebellion  would  come. 

I  swapped  my  watch  for  about  twenty  dollars' 
worth  of  provisions — flour,  side-bacon,  dried  ap- 
ples, sugar,  coffee,  and  salt  enough  to  save  it,  with 
.a  few  cans  of  fruit.  Price,  on  an  average,  about 
twenty-five  cents  per  pound.  My  son  gave  me  a 
buffalo-skin  and  quilt  for  bedding.  My  mind  was 
bent  on  a  mountain  trip,  and  no  time  to  spare,  as 
I  thought  of  getting  back  by  the  last  of  Septem- 
ber. The  Phillips  Lode,  at  Buckskin  Joe,  was  the 
point  of  the  greatest  excitement  at  that  time.  I 
joined  myself  to  a  company  which  had  a  team. 
They  hauled  my  stuff,  and  I  started  on  foot  for  an- 
other hundred  miles.  This  was  the  third  day  of 
July,  1 86 1.  We  reached  Apex,  at  the  foot-hills, 
the  first  day,  which  I  supposed  we  would  reach  by 
noon.  But  I  was  like  the  man,  several  years  after, 
that  started  to  the  same  place  before  breakfast; 
traveled  till  he  got  tired,  and  seeing  a  ditch  some 
fifty  yards  ahead,  he  stopped  and  began  to  pull  off 
his  boots.  His  comrade  asked  him  what  was  the 
matter?  He  replied:  "If  that  ditch" — about  four 
feet  wide — "is  as  much  wider  in  proportion  as  the 
mountains  are  further  from  Denver  than  they  look 
to  be,  I  will  have  to  swim  it." 

We  began  to  ascend  the  mountains  on  the  4th 


124  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

of  July,  1 86 1,  and  as  it  was  my  first  mountain  trip, 
I  was  wonderfully  interested.  It  was  so  different 
from  what  I  supposed — timber,  grass,  shrubs  of 
many  kinds,  strawberry-vines  in  full  bloom,  with 
an  occasional  view  back  across  the  plains.  It  was 
a  pleasant  day.  I  indulged  in  reflections  on  the 
wonders  of  the  creation  of  God ;  but  could  not  con- 
ceive that  the  signers  of  the  Declaration  of  our 
Independence  had  even  a  faint  idea  of  the  half  they 
were  doing. 

We  reached  the  head  of  the  North  Platte,  on 
Kenosha  Hill.  For  over  twenty  miles,  up  the 
canon,  we  had  been  shut  out  from  seeing  much  of 
the  world  by  the  towering  mountains  on  either 
side.  We  were  well  prepared,  as  we  reached  the 
top,  to  be  astonished  at  the  sight  of  South  Park, 
which  from  this  point  is  a  view  of  grandeur  never 
to  be  forgotten.  Prairies,  surrounded  with  high 
mountains  and  interspersed  with  pine-groves  and 
small  peaks — a  very  Eden  Park — are  a  sight  seldom 
surpassed  even  in  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

On  the  ninth  day  of  July,  we  reached  Buck- 
skin Joe  Camp.  Just  two  months  from  the  day  I 
left  Lenora,  Minnesota,  my  eyes  had  improved  a 
little.  Otherways,  I  enjoyed  good  health,  after  a 
tramp  of  over  seven  hundred  miles  on  foot.  What 
a  difference  between  then  and  now !  Then,  a  half- 
beaten  wagon-track  on  an  Indian  trail;  now,  the 
passenger  sits  on  a  cushioned  seat,  and  rests  at 
night  in  a  sleeping-car!  One  thing  is  certain — 
he  can 't  come  as  independently  as  I  came  on 
twenty-seven  dollars! 


PIKE'S  PEAK  AND  WESTWARD.  125 

I  find  among  my  papers  "A  Short  Account 
of  My  First  Year  in  Colorado,  Commencing  June 
20,  1861,"  which  I  read  before  the  first  District 
Ministerial  Association  ever  held  in  Denver.  I 
walked  from  Summit  County  in  order  to  read  it. 
Governor  John  Evans,  after  hearing  it,  presented 
me  with  fifteen  dollars.  At  the  risk  of  repetition, 
I  will  give  it  here:  After  resting  a  few  days  in 
Denver,  having  walked  from  Omaha,  Nebraska, 
and  having  preached  once,  I  started  on  the  3d 
of  July  for  Buckskin  Joe,  in  South  Park;  and 
on  the  9th  saw  the  Phillips  Lode,  then  the  bo- 
nanza of  the  country.  On  inquiry  I  found  that 
Brother  William  Howbert  had  preached  a  funeral 
sermon  in  1860,  and  Brother  William  Antis  had 
held  one  service.  This  was  the  first  preaching  in 
these  parts.  Rev.  William  Howbert  was  on  the 
South  Park  Mission,  1861. 

The  following  Sunday  we  selected  a  shade, 
with  a  few  logs  for  seats,  where  services  were  kept 
up  for  some  time,  with  street-preaching  at  night. 
In  a  short  time  Brother  Howbert  preached,  and 
proposed  to  form  a  class;  and  as  no  move  was 
made,  I  arose,  and  said  I  had  often  beat  up  for 
volunteers,  and  always  felt  like  joining  over  again, 
and  now  was  my  time;  and  gave  my  hand  and 
name  to  the  Church.  Over  twenty  followed. 
They  formed  the  first  class  so  high  up  in  the 
mountains. 

The  first  Sunday  in  August  I  walked  eight 
miles  to  Montgomery  to  preach,  and  instead  of 
finding  a  good  number,  all  were  out  staking  off 


SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

claims  but  one  man.  He  asked  me  to  take  din- 
ner. We  sat  down  on  the  ground  to  eat,  as  there 
was  not  a  house,  table,  or  stool,  in  the  place. 
From  there  I  made  my  way  up  to  Quartz  Hill, 
just  at  timber  line,  where  I  preached  to  about 
thirty  attentive  hearers,  and  felt  that  the  Lord 
was  with  us  indeed ;  walked  back  sixteen  miles, 
and  held  two  services;  the  next  Sabbath,  visited 
Fair  Play,  and  preached  to  thirty,  who  all  gave 
good  attention  to  the  words  spoken,  as  it  was  the 
first  preaching  there.  On  the  25th  of  August  I 
tried  to  preach  the  first  sermon  in  Mosquito  by 
a  camp-fire,  as  there  was  no  house  at  the  time  in 
the  place.  For  nine  weeks  my  house  was  made 
of  poles  and  pine-boughs,  so  thatched  that  they 
turned  the  rain  after  being  well  soaked  one  night. 
Worked  through  the  week  by  the  day  and 
contract. 

On  the  1 6th  of  September  I  set  out  for  Cali- 
fornia Gulch,  having  been  solicited  previously  to 
take  charge  of  that  mission  by  the  pastor  who 
supplied  it.  He  agreed  to  have  the  presiding 
elder  make  the  change.  But  he  left  in  disgrace, 
and  the  presiding  elder — John  M.  Cherington — 
had  become  a  major  in  the  army.  I  was  left  on 
my  own  resources,  in  a  wilderness  country,  with 
six  or  seven  members,  and  they  scattered  over  one 
hundred  miles !  The  outfit  was  a  buffalo-skin  and 
quilt,  some  crackers,  a  piece  of  bacon,  coffee  and 
sugar,  with  some  dried  apples,  a  tin  cup,  and  an 
oyster-can;  in  all,  thirty-seven  and  one-half  pounds 
to  pack  on  my  back.  I  now  made  my  way  up 


PIKE'S  PEAK  AND  WESTWARD.  127 

the  range,  about  eight  miles,  to  the  top  of  the 
Mosquito  Pass,  the  highest  and  hardest  range  I 
had  then  crossed.  From  here  I  could  see  the 
head  of  the  Platte  River,  Arkansas,  Blue  River, 
and  the  head  of  the  Grand  River ;  like  the  Garden 
of  Eden,  it  was  at  least  the  starting  point  of  all 
these  mighty  rivers. 

As  I  took  a  view  of  those  gigantic  mountain 
peaks  and  deep  gorges,  the  thought  came  to  me, 
if  heaven  is  above,  I  am  nearer  Canaan's  shores 
than  ever  before.  After  prayer  for  our  country  on 
both  sides,  and  for  myself,  alone  on  the  dividing 
range  of  our  great  continent,  I  partook  of  my 
frugal  stores,  and  that  night  preached  at  California 
Gulch,  now  Leadville.  The  next  day  started  alone 
for  the  Gunnison  country,  following  an  Indian  trail. 
Had  to  wade  the  Arkansas.  Took  off  my  boots, 
and  I  thought  the  top  of  the  cold  wrater  would 
cut  my  legs  off;  and  that  day  I  saw  for  the  first 
time  the  beautiful  Twin  Lakes.  Had  not  heard 
of  them  before.  My  surprise  may  be  imagined. 
My  path  was  up  Lake  Creek,  a  perfect  mountain 
wilderness,  snowy  ranges  towering  on  either  side. 
I  had  not  seen  a  human  being  for  several  miles ; 
night  was  coming  on,  and  I  began  to  look  for  a 
camping-place.  I  heard,  just  as  the  sun  was  sink- 
ing behind  the  snow-capped  mountains,  the  sound 
of  a  bell,  and  soon  found  five  men.  They  had 
one  burro  to  pack  their  food  and  blankets.  I 
asked  for  lodging.  They  said  :4  "  If  you  can  fur- 
nish your  own  accommodations,  you  can  stay."  I 
accepted.  I  had  a  paper  with  me  with  a  sermon 


128  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

preached  by  Dr.  Elliott,  in  St.  L,ouis,  on  the 
"Rights  of  God  and  Caesar."  It  was  in  war  time, 
and  by  the  fire  made  of  pine-roots  it  was  read, 
and  you  would  better  believe  it  was  a  grand  treat. 
Next  morning  I  had  breakfast,  and  started  before 
my  company,  and  at  three  o'clock  was  at  Kent's 
Gulch,  where  there  were  about  one  hundred  men, 
one  of  whom  had  a  family.  He  had  raised  his 
house,  and  was  just  covering  it  with  poles,  grass, 
and  dirt.  I  told  him  I  was  a  bit  of  a  Methodist 
preacher,  and  would  like  to  preach  in  his  house. 
He  said:  "  You  can,  sir,  when  I  get  the  roof  on." 
It  was  announced  for  the  next  night,  and  nearly 
every  man  in  the  diggings  came.  There  were  a 
table  and  two  benches.  When  the  benches  were 
full,  the  hearers  sat  on  the  ground  all  around  the 
walls,  and  the  next  row  against  their  knees,  until 
every  foot  of  space  was  filled.  The  tent  opposite 
the  door  and  the  space  around  the  door  were 
also  crowded.  It  was  as  singular  a  scene  as 
the  Savior  had,  when  he  broke  bread  to  the 
multitude.  My  subject  was  "  Repentance  and 
Conversion."  A  more  attentive  crowd  is  seldom 
seen,  and  God's  presence  was  manifest,  and  the 
preacher  felt  that  he  was  standing  between  the 
living  and  the  dead.  This  was  the  first  effort  in 
the  way  of  preaching  ever  made  in  all  the  Gun- 
nison  country.  One  man  arose  and  took  a  collec- 
tion of  about  twenty  dollars  in  gold-dust,  and 
gave  me  an  invitation  to  come  and  preach  again. 
The  woman  said  she  had  no  time  to  hear;  must 
do  up  her  work,  and  so  washed  dishes  until  the 


PIKE'S  PEAK  AND  WESTWARD.          129 

text  was  read.  She  turned  her  back  to  her  work, 
holding  her  dish-cloth  in  her  hand,  and  never 
moved  until  the  discourse  was  closed.  I  found 
three  members  of  our  Church,  Brothers  Gamble, 
Dunnagan,  and  Case. 

The  next  day  I  took  my  pack  and  started  for 
Washington  Gulch,  forty-five  miles  west,  on  a  dim 
Indian  trail.  Near  the  crossing  of  Taylor  River 
I  overtook  a  pack-train  loaded  with  food,  all  but 
one  burro,  which  had  twenty  gallons  of  whisky. 
Just  then  we  were  met  by  a  number  of  prospec- 
tors. They  saw  the  whisky-kegs.  Of  course  they 
must  have  some.  They  caught  the  burro,  one 
holding  it  by  the  head,  and  another  by  the  tail, 
and  the  third  trying  to  get  the  cork  out.  The 
preacher  stepped  up,  and  asked  if  they  were  tap- 
ping the  jack.  "No,"  was  the  reply,  "it  is  the 
keg."  .Suffice  it  to  say,  they  all  drank  out  of  a 
tin  cup,  and  one  of  them  poured  out  gold-dust 
into  the  freighter's  hand  until  he  was  satisfied. 
Well,  I  passed  on,  and  for  once  got  in  ahead  of 
the  whisky. 

That  day  we  passed  Deadman's  Gulch.  At 
this  place  six  white  men  had  been  killed  by  a 
company  of  Indians  in '1859.  ^  ^s  sa^  ^iat  ^ey 
fought  bravely,  standing  behind  their  horses ;  and 
it  looked  as  though  it  might  have  been  so,  as  I 
saw  the  bones  of  several  horses,  as  well  as  a  part 
of  the  frames  of  six  human  beings,  that  lay  bleach- 
ing in  the  mountains.  They  had  been  slightly 
buried,  but  the  wolves  had  uncovered  them.  Kit 
Carson  was  informed  by  the  Indians  that  several 


130  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

of  their  number  were  killed,  and  some  wounded. 
There  was  none  to  tell  us  of  the  dreadful  scene; 
the  tall  pines  alone  witnessed  the  ascent  of  the 
dead  men's  ghosts. 

We  camped  near  that  place.  It  was  very  high, 
and  disagreeably  cold.  Next  day  I  camped,  in 
company  with  two  men,  in  sight  of  Minersville, 
on  Washington  Gulch.  Sabbath,  the  24th  of  Sep- 
tember, I  entered  the  town,  and  shall  not  forget 
the  scene.  One  man  was  cutting  and  selling  beef; 
others  rolling  logs  down  the  hill ;  others  covering 
their  cabins;  another  building  a  chimney;  and  still 
others  selling  provisions  and  whisky  in  a  tent. 
From  this  stand-point  I  resolved  to  announce  my 
appointment. 

The  first  man  I  spoke  to  was  dressing  some 
grouse.  After  salutation,  I  said :  "  Did  not  you  ex- 
pect a  Methodist  preacher  would  be  on  hand  as 
soon  as  you  had  chicken  to  eat?"  "  Well,"  he  said, 
"  I  have  heard  that  they  were  fond  of  chickens," 
and  gave  me  a  welcome  to  take  dinner  with  him. 
The  preacher  was  on  hand  in  time.  I  stepped 
out  to  about  the  center  of  the  camp,  and  said: 
"O  yes!  Oyes!  O  yes!  there  will  be  preaching 
at  half-past  ten  o'clock  wherever  the  most  people 
can  be  found  together." 

As  I  walked  around  the  camp,  I  met  some 
going  fishing,  others  berrying,  and  invited  all. 
Here  I  met  Brother  Tindal,  of  Georgetown.  One 
asked  me  who  was  going  to  preach.  I  made  a  bow, 
and  said :  "  I  am  going  to  try,  with  the  help  of  God." 
He  seemed  much  astonished.  Meeting  quite  a 


PIKE'S  PEAK  AND  WESTWARD.          131 

hard-looking  man,  I  invited  him  to  come  and  hear 
preaching.  He  replied:  "It  doesn't  look  well  for 
a  man  to  ask  people  to  come  and  hear  him  preach." 
The  preacher  looked  at  him  in  the  crowd,  and 
said:  "Sir,  if  I  could  get  such  a  looking  man  as 
you  are  to  come  by  asking  him,  I  would  do  well." 

The  time  arrived,  and  now  came  the  tug  of 
war ;  for  the  most  people  were  around  the  grocery. 
Forty  men  and  jacks,  mules,  and  ponies.  Just 
now  the  preacher  began  to  sweat.  It  was  hard  to 
speak  in  such  a  place,  not  knowing  that  there  was 
one  in  sympathy  with  him;  but  it  must  be  done. 
I  got  in  front  of  the  tent,  under  the  shade  of  a 
pine-tree,  and  read  the  hymn,  beginning,  "Alas! 
and  did  my  Savior  bleed?"  and  as  I  tried  in  the 
old  way  to  sing  it,  a  number  joined  in  and  helped ; 
but  some  were  selling,  others  buying,  and  some 
packing  their  beasts.  At  the  proper  time  I  said : 
"Let  us  pray."  After  this  the  poor  preacher  be- 
gan to  feel  better,  and  the  people  kept  coming  in 
until  there  were  over  one  hundred.  And  as  the 
speaker  proceeded,  he  felt  that  God  had  verified 
his  promise:  "Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway,  even  unto 
the  end  of  the  world."  I  was  at  the  last  camp 
east  of  California,  and  had  the  evidence  that  God 
was  in  the  wilderness  as  well  as  in  the  city  full, 
and  felt  that  I  could  run  through  a  troop. 

I  will  state  two  things  that  took  place  during 
the  service.  When  about  half  through,  three  men 
got  on  their  ponies  in  the  outskirts  of  the  congre- 
gation, and  one  of  them  waved  his  hat  and  said 
farewell.  The  speaker  responded  for  the  audience, 


132  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

and  also  said,  "God  have  mercy  on  your  soul," 
and  they  passed  away.  Soon  after  this  a  mule 
reached  his  head  into  the  tent  and  took  out  a  loaf 
of  bread,  and  started  off  with  it ;  but  was  soon 
caught,  tied  up,  and  the  bread  taken  away,  so  that 
we  were  getting  rid  of  some  of  the  stock.  Not- 
withstanding these  interruptions,  most  of  the 
hearers  listened  with  great  attention.  At  the  close, 
I  gave  out  that  I  would  have  a  camp-meeting  at 
night.  There  were  tents  enough,  and  plenty  of 
pine-knots  for  light,  but  that  we  would  have  to 
dispense  with  the  women,  for  there  was  but  one 
within  a  hundred  miles  of  us.  We  built  an  extra 
fire  or  two,  and  I  suppose  there  were  not  less  than 
one  hundred  and  fifty  people  out  to  hear  the  word. 

We  had  services  on  Monday  evening  again.  It 
was  seed  sown  in  weakness.  God  only  knows  the 
results.  A  man  came  to  me  at  the  close,  and  in- 
vited me  to  take  breakfast  with  him;  said  it  was 
the  first  sermon  he  had  heard  preached  for  eight 
years,  and  several  said  it  was  the  first  they  had 
heard  for  two  years.  I  met  a  man  here  from  Wis- 
consin, and  another  from  Minnesota,  whom  I  had 
been  acquainted  with.  They  gave  me  about  ten 
dollars. 

On  Tuesday  I  started  back  alone  on  the  Indian 
trail,  and  near  sunset  met  a  German  in  Deadman's 
Gulch,  and  in  sight  of  the  bones  of  the  six  men 
killed  by  the  Indians.  He  made  some  inquiries. 
I  told  him  where  we  were,  and  pointed  to  the 
bones,  and  he  began  to  whip  his  jack  and  put  out;  . 
did  not  want  to  hear  any  more.  Within  a  mile 


PIKE'S  PEAK  AND  WESTWARD.          133 

I  met  a  man  that  had  stopped  to  camp.  We 
agreed  to  lodge  together.  I  saw  at  once  that  he 
was  a  Southerner;  his  speech  betrayed  him.  I 
was  careful  to  say  nothing  relative  to  the  war;  but 
he  asked  me  how  I  stood  as  to  the  Rebellion.  I 
told  him  I  was  for  the  Union,  and  remarked  it 
would  not  be  worth  while  for  us  to  fight  here,  as 
we  had  no  reporter.  He  said  we  could  talk 
friendly  on  the  subject;  so  we  did,  and  parted 
friendly,  after  sleeping  under  the  same  tree.  He 
was  armed,  and  I  was  not,  save  the  arms  that 
God  had  given  me,  but  I  felt  safe  in  his  protect- 
ing care. 

Next  day  I  reached  Kent's  Gulch,  and  stayed 
until  Monday.  I  preached  twice,  and  again  took 
the  trail  across  the  range  to  Twin  Lakes  and  Cask 
Creek.  I  will  here  speak  of  the  first  preaching  on 
Cask  Creek,  some  four  weeks  before  in  a  saloon. 
The  owner  said  I  was  welcome  if  I  would  preach. 
The  reply  was:  "If  you  can  get  more  sinners  in 
there  than  in  other  places,  there  is  no  good  reason 
why  I  should  not  try  to  reform  them  in  that  or 
any  other  place."  I  had  some  fifty  hearers.  The 
preacher  stood  at  the  end  of  the  counter,  and  this 
time  Bible  and  hymn-book  took  the  place  of 
bottle  and  glass,  and  the  preacher  had  control  for 
the  hour,  and  seldom  felt  greater  freedom  in  dis- 
pensing the  word  of  life  to  an  attentive  set  of 
miners.  From  my  observation,  I  began  to  think 
that  scarcely  a  man  had  crossed  the  plains  who 
would  not  behave  in  divine  service.  And  as  there 
were  no  trees  without  going  into  the  woods,  I 


134  SNOW-SHOE  ITINKRANT. 

found  room  in  a  cabin  to  sleep,  and  after  I  retired, 
a  man  came  in  and  asked  me  to  get  np  and  go 
with  him  and  marry  a  couple.  Of  course  I  went. 
I  wished  to  know  something  of  the  case  in  hand. 
They  gave  the  following  account: 

The  couple  had  run  away  from  near  Denver. 
The  girl's  father  was  opposed  to  the  match.  In 
their  flight,  they  found  a  justice,  and  he  performed 
the  ceremony  of  matrimony.  The  father  followed, 
with  help,  some  eighty  miles;  and  while  the  bride 
and  groom  were  eating  their  dinner  on  the  bank 
of  a  creek  in  South  Pask,  the  pursuing  party  came 
up  and  demanded  the  girl  of  sixteen.  All  being 
armed,  the  girl  stood  between  her  father  and  her 
husband  until  he  hitched  up,  and  then,  jumping 
into  the  wagon,  the  plucky  couple  put  for  the 
mountains ;  and  the  father  and  company  gave  up 
the  chase,  but  told  them  he  knew  the  justice  had 
no  commission.  The  groom  pleaded  with  me  to 
marry  them,  so  that  the  father  would  be  better 
satisfied,  knowing  that  a  preacher  had  performed 
the  ceremony.  I  thought  they  were  married  and 
that  it  would  do  no  harm  to  marry  them  over  again, 
and  so  did  it.  I  was  out  of  money,  and  he  gave 
me  two  half-dollars. 

The  next  day  I  visited  Georgia  Bar,  on  the 
Arkansas  River;  found  some  fifty  men  at  work 
panning  out  the  dust ;  gathered  a  few,  and  preached 
at  night.  Next  morning,  as  I  passed  up  the  Bar, 
thought  it  a  mighty  contact,  water  against  rock. 
I  felt  gloomy,  and  the  scene  looked  so ;  and  just  as 
I  passed  a  cabin,  a  man  came  out  and  asked  me 


PIKE'S  PEAK  AND  WESTWARD.  135 

if  I  was  the  man  that  preached  below  last  night. 
"Yes,  sir."  He  said  a  young  man  died  there  last 
night,  and  asked  me  to  attend  the  funeral.  Forty 
men  and  two  women  were  present.  All  seemed  to 
be  deeply  affected,  as  it  was  the  first  funeral  most 
of  us  had  been  at  in  the  mountains.  He  was  buried 
as  decently  as  the  circumstances  would  admit. 
From  there  I  went  to  California  Gulch,  and 
preached ;  and,  after  resting  a  few  days,  went  to 
the  Gunnison  again.  Falling  in  with  a  Mr.  Noah 
Armstrong,  we  bought  a  jack,  packed  him,  and  I 
thought  that,  as  I  was  on  my  own  hook,  it  would 
be  well  to  dig  a  little,  as  necessity  seemed  to  de- 
mand it. 

We  prospected  over  three  weeks  without  suc- 
cess, when  a  deep  snow  fell.  We  were  seventy 
miles  from  any  winter  quarters,  and  the  main 
range  to  cross,  and  the  snow  from  three  to  five 
feet  deep.  While  we  were  out,  on  the  first  Sun- 
day, my  partner  said,  as  we  did  not  work,  we 
ought  to  have  preaching.  I  told  him  if  he  could 
stand  the  application,  I  could  preach  to  him.  So 
he  gave  it  out  for  one  o'clock;  and  after  the  pre- 
liminaries, knowing  my  whole  audience  had  plenty 
at  home,  and  had  lost  all  in  the  mountains,  I  com- 
mented on  the  Parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son.  Suf- 
fice it  to  say,  the  congregation  was  attentive  and 
serious.  We  staid  so  long  that  it  was  with  diffi- 
culty we  got  out.  We  were  several  days  on  short 
allowance,  and  one  day  had  nothing.  We  shov- 
eled snow  three  days  and  a  half  to  get  three  and 
a  half  miles ;  but,  by  the  blessing  of  Gofl,  we  made 


136  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

the  riffle.  I  reached  California  Gulch  in  good 
health,  weighed  one  hundred  and  sixty-three 
pounds,  and  when  I  left  the  States,  pulled  one 
hundred  and  ninety-two  pounds.  I  found  out 
that  a  man  at  forty-seven,  getting  fat,  could  walk, 
work,  and  preach  off  all  the  fat. 

I  stayed  at  the  above  place  until  the  yth  of 
January ;  held  meetings  for  ten  nights ;  some  rose 
for  prayers,  but  they  must  have  the  school-house 
to  dance  in,  and  we  had  to  yield ;  and  then  started 
alone  for  Buckskin  Joe,  by  the  Weston  Pass.  At 
timber  height  I  was  met  by  a  severe  snow-storm. 
Had  a  box  of  matches,  but  not  one  would  burn. 
The  prospect  was  frightful.  I  prayed  and  dedi- 
cated myself  to  God,  and  thought  that  by  his 
grace  I  would  try  to  pull  through.  For  five  or  six 
hours  I  waded  the  snow  waist-deep,  until,  almost 
exhausted,  I  leaned  up  against  a  tree  to  rest.  I 
never  saw  death  and  eternity  so  near  as  then. 
My  life  seemed  to  be  at  an  end ;  but  I  resolved  to 
keep  moving,  and  when  I  could  go  no  more,  would 
hang  up  my  carpet-sack,  and  write  on  a  smooth 
pine-tree  my  own  epitaph — "Look  for  me  in 
heaven;"  but  through  the  goodness  of  God,  I 
reached  the  toll-gate  about  one  hour  after  dark; 
and  I  shall  never  forget  the  kindness  of  the  Swede 
who  took  me  in  and  cared  for  me. 

From  here  to  Fairplay,  called  fifteen  miles,  I 
gathered  up  a  congregation  of  twenty-five,  and 
preached  at  the  store  of  Mr.  Shannan.  From 
there  I  went  to  Buckskin  Joe,  and,  with  Brother 
Antis,  held  meeting  for  two  weeks,  in  the  face  of 


PIKE'S  PEAK  AND  WESTWARD.        137 

every  kind  of  opposition — at  least  two  balls  a  week, 
a  dancing-school,  a  one-horse  theater,  two  men 
shot — and  yet,  notwithstanding  all  these  things, 
we  had  a  good  meeting.  The  Chnrch  was  much 
revived,  and  several  backsliders  were  reclaimed. 
In  about  four  months  I  traveled  near  five  hundred 
miles  on  foot,  by  Indian  trails,  crossing  logs,  car- 
rying my  pack,  and  preaching  about  three  times 
a  week.  Received  forty-three  dollars  in  collec- 
tions at  different  places.  Nothing  that  we  ate 
cost  less  than  twenty-five  cents  per  pound,  and  we 
had  to  carry  freight  on  our  backs.  Spent  about  fifty 
dollars  of  my  own  resources,  as  I  had  worked  by 
the  day  and  job  through  the  week,  and  preached 
nights  and  Sundays.  My  clothes  were  worn  out; 
my  hat-rim  patched  with  dressed  antelope-skin; 
my  boots  half-soled  with  raw-hide.  This  is  a 
sample  of  my  work  and  experiences  the  first  year 

in  the  mountains  of  Colorado. 

12 


138  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IN    COLORADO. 

TV  BOUT  the  ist  of  February  I  started  on  foot 
-^p-  for  Denver.  We  had  a  stage  once  a  week 
to  Buckskin  Joe.  Fare,  ten  dollars  each  way. 
I  could  walk  the  hundred  miles  in  two  days 
and  a  half.  If  I  did  not  make  money,  I  could 
save  some.  On  Saturday  evening  I  reached  the 
city  of  Denver,  dressed,  as  far  as  it  went,  in  miner's 
clothes,  minus  a  vest.  I  thought  it  would  be  all 
right  to  sit  back  and  hear  the  preacher;  but 
who  should  it  be  but  Colonel  Chivington,  in  his 
military  stiit,  with  belt,  bowie-knife,  and  revolver. 
I  had  taken  my  seat  half-way  back.  As  he  passed, 
he  took  hold  of  my  collar,  pulled  me  out  into  the 
aisle,  and  said:  "Come,  preach  for  me."  Of 
course,  by  this  everyone  in  the  house  had  seen  me, 
as  well  as  my  clothes.  I  walked  up,  told  him  to 
give  out  a  hymn,  and  afterwards  I  led  in  prayer. 
It  was  always  best  for  me  to  whet  my  own  scythe. 
I  will  say  nothing  about  the  effort,  only  that  I 
forgot  all  about  poor  clothes. 

The  next  day  I  was  passing  a  store,  and  was 
called  in  by  my  esteemed  friend,  Brother  Pease, 
now  of  Cheyenne,  Wyoming,  who  made  me  a 
present  of  a  vest.  I  have  not  been  without  one 
since.  This  gave  the  colonel  a  chance  to  tell  an 
incident,  which  contrasts  the  preachers  of  the  past 


IN  COLORADO.  139 

and  present,  and  shows  the  generosity  of  a  Pres- 
byterian in  early  times.  It  was  common  for  our 
preachers  to  wear  homespun ;  and  their  wives 
often  spun,  and  sometimes  wove  the  jeans  on  the 
common  loom.  I  think  they  do  not  do  so  now. 
Well,  all  right. 

At  the  first  conference  of  the  Methodist  Church 
ever  held  in  the  city  of  Columbus,  Ohio,  Rev. 
Russel  Bigelow,  one  of  the  members,  was  dressed 
as  above,  and  present.  Rev.  James  B.  Finley  was 
the  preacher  in  charge,  and  was  told  by  a  Presby- 
terian friend  that  if  he  would  send  him  one  of 
their  best  preachers,  he  would  board  him.  He 
sent  Brother  Bigelow,  whose  plain  garb  almost  dis- 
gusted his  host  and  family.  Meeting  Mr.  Finley, 
he  said:  "Why  did  you  not  send  a  respectable 
preacher?"  "  You  wanted  one  of  our  best  preachers, 
and  the  one  sent  is  to  preach  at  your  church  Sun- 
day, and  if  you  do  n't  say  he  is  good  or  the  best 
you  ever  heard,  I  am  mistaken!"  Sunday  came, 
and  they  took  their  pews.  The  lady  and  the  two 
daughters  kept  their  veils  over  their  faces  at  first ; 
but  as  he  began  to  rise  in  his  discourse,  they  lifted 
their  veils,  while  the  host,  with  many  others,  was 
unconsciously  standing  on  his  feet.  I  suppose 
they  forgot  all  about  his  coarse  clothes.  Mr. 
Finley  met  his  friend  next  day,  and  asked  him 
how  he  liked  his  preacher.  He  answered:  "You 
Methodists  are  not  fit  to  have  such  a  preacher!" 
He  took  him  to  a  tailor  and  ordered  him  a  fine 
suit,  which  the  eloquent  Bigelow  always  kept  to 
wear  to  conference.  Such  were  the  men  we  had 


140  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

fifty  or  sixty  years  ago.  There  were  not  ten  his 
equals  in  the  United  States  at  the  time  of  his 
death. 

I  made  a  trip  to  the  Wide-awake  Camp,  and 
tried  to  preach  several  times,  and  over  to  Central 
City,  to  help  Brother  Adriance  hold  a  quarterly 
meeting,  about  the  first  of  March.  We  had  a  use- 
ful meeting. 

In  the  latter  part  of  March,  1862,  I  received  a 
letter  from  Brother  B.  C.  Dennis,  presiding  elder  of 
the  Rocky  Mountain  District,  Kansas  Conference — 
at  this  time  Colorado  was  included  in  this  confer- 
ence— asking  me  to  take  charge  of  Blue  River 
Mission,  Summit  County,  Colo.  I  was  in  Denver, 
and  the  next  day  started  on  foot.  I  went  by 
Central  City,  and  the  first  day  out  from  there  it 
snowed  four  inches,  which  made  it  bad  walking. 
The  second  day  reached  Kenosha  Hill,  remarkably 
tired.  My  purse  of  gold-dust  was  so  light  that  I 
feared  there  would  not  be  enough  to  pay  my  bill. 
I  told  the  landlord  that  it  was  possible  that  my 
means  would  not  meet  my  expenses,  but  wished 
to  stay,  and  that  I  would  remit  to  him.  He  said 
that  it  would  be  all  right,  and  the  call  for  supper 
soon  came.  When  I  sat  down,  I  saw  that  the 
food  was  all  cold  except  a  weak  cup  of  tea.  After 
a  few  mouth fuls,  I  became  sick  and  left  the  table, 
and  lay  down  on  a  bench  in  the  bar-room  and 
rested,  for  I  was  almost  given  out.  After  half  an 
hour,  another  man  came  in  for  supper,  and  while 
he  was  eating  I  went  in  for  a  drink  of  water,  -and 
saw  hot  coffee,  ham,  and  eggs,  I  thought  I  would 


IN  COLORADO.  141 

never  say  anything  about  pay  again  until  after 
breakfast.  I  rested  all  night,  and  in  the  morning 
ate  a  hearty  breakfast,  and  gave  the  host  my  purse. 
He  weighed  out  my  bill,  and  I  had  some  left. 
There  were  at  lest  twenty-five  miles  to  walk,  and 
but  one  house.  I  took  dinner  and  handed  my 
purse  to  the  landlord,  and  he  weighed  my  bill  and 
I  crossed  the  range  on  a  snow-path ;  for,  although 
it  was  April,  the  snow  was  from  five  to  fifteen  feet 
deep. 

I  reached  Georgia  Gulch  on  the  second  day  of 
April,  and  was  received  kindly.  There  were  about 
one  hundred  and  fifty  people  in  the  Gulch,  and  I 
found  some  few  that  had  been  members  of  some 
Church.  I  gave  out  preaching  for  the  next  Sun- 
day at  ten  and  a-half  o'clock,  and  at  French  Gulch 
in  the  afternoon.  The  hall  was  well-filled  in  the 
morning,  and  there  were  about  forty  hearers  in  the 
afternoon.  There  was  a  friendly  Jew  at  Georgia 
Gulch,  who  proposed  to  raise  the  preacher  some- 
thing, and  took  a  paper  and  collected  $22.50  in 
dust;  for  that  was  all  the  currency  then.  This 
amount  was  quite  a  help,  as  there  were  only  ten 
cents  in  my  purse  when  I  got  there.  There  was 
an  appropriation  of  one  hundred  and  twenty-five 
dollars  from  the  conference.  We  had  at  first  five 
preaching-places  for  two  weeks,  and  afterwards 
more. 

I  saw  that  what  I  was  likely  to  get  in  the  new 
wild  country  would  not  board  me,  as  common 
board  was  seven  dollars  a  week,  and  a  man  had  to 
find  his  own  bed,  and  do  his  own  washing.  I  had 


142  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

a  chance  to  buy  a  cabin  in  French  Gulch  or  what 
was  then  called  Lincoln  City,  and  I  set  up  in  a 
humble  way  keeping  bachelor's  hall.  My  bed- 
stead was  made  of  pine  poles,  even  to  the  springs. 
The  bed  was  hay,  with  blankets  for  covering.  I 
slept  well,  and  rested  as  well  as  though  I  had  been 
in  a  fine  parlor-chamber.  My  furniture  was  prim- 
itive and  limited — a  table,  and  a  couple  of  boards 
against  the  side  of  the  wall  for  a  cupboard,  six 
tin  plates,  half  a  set  of  knives  and  forks,  with  a 
few  other  indispensables;  a  coffee-pot,  a  tin  cup, 
and  a  pot  for  boiling  vegetables — when  I  had 
them — and  a  frying-pan.  As  to  a  library,  mine 
had  not  crossed  the  plains;  but  we  had  a  few 
books  to  read — the  Bible,  hymn-book,  and  Meth- 
odist Discipline,  with  two  of  our  weekly  Advocates 
and  the  Rocky  Mountain  News.  I  tried  to  keep 
up  with  the  times. 

The  compass  of  my  circuit  was  not  large. 
The  farthest  appointment  was  six  miles;  and  I 
preached  about  seven  times  in  two  weeks.  I 
formed  one  class,  and  then  discovered  that  there 
was  little  profit  in  it,  as  the  people  stopped  so 
short  a  time  in  one  place.  I  concluded  to  get 
everybody  out,  and  then  preach  the  truth  burning 
hot,  whether  my  hearers  were  in  the  house  or 
around  the  camp-fire,  or,  at  other  times,  under 
the  shade  of  a  pine-tree.  We  generally  had 
good  congregations.  The  way  we  got  them  out 
was  to  go  along  the  gulches  and  tell  the  people  in 
their  cabins  and  saloons  where  the  preaching 
would  be  at  night,  and  then,  just  before  the  time, 


IN  COLORADO.  143 

to  step  to  the  door  where  they  were  at  cards,  and 
say:  "My  friends,  can't  you  close  your  game  in 
ten  minutes,  and  come  and  hear  preaching?"  I 
tried  to  adapt  myself  to  the  situation,  neither 
showing  that  I  felt  above  anyone,  nor  ever  com- 
promising with  sin  or  with  transgressions,  and  being 
ready  always  to  speak  for  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

We  cooked  by  a  fire-place,  generally  baking 
our  bread  in  a  frying-pan  set  up  before  the  fire. 
I  must  not  forget  to  say  that  we  had  stools  and 
benches  in  place  of  chairs.  There  was  one  chair 
left  in  my  house,  made  by  some  one  out  of  crooked 
pine-limbs,  with  the  seat  of  ropes.  It  was  so 
comical  that  if  I  had  it  now,  I  would  certainly 
place  it  in  an  exposition.  It  was  easy  enough  for 
an  editor. 

I  tried  to  make  my  cabin  useful.  It  was  about 
eighteen  feet  square,  and,  taken  every  way,  the 
best  place  to  hold  our  meetings.  The  floor  was 
hard  ground.  I  got  gunny-sacks  and  made  carpet, 
and  covered  the  table  with  two  copies  of  the  North- 
western Christian  Advocate.  And  thus  I  preached 
to  the  people  in  my  own  house,  not  in  a  hired 
house,  as  the  Apostle  Paul  did. 

The  first  county  officers  had  been  elected  the 
fall  previous,  and  the  assessor  refused  to  act, 
and  it  was  intimated  that  he  was  afraid  that  the 
miners  would  not  stand  it  to  be  assessed;  so  he, 
with  others,  insisted  that  I  should  take  the  office 
as  deputy.  I  told  them  the  office  I  held  was  all 
I  could  attend  to,  and  that  I  did  not  wish  to  take 
the  responsibility.  But  they  were  set  on  my 


144  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

doing  the  work,  and  I  concluded  to  try.  Only  one 
man  resisted  me,  and  I  made  him  believe  that  he 
was  the  best  man  I  could  get  to  help  me,  if  there 
was  any  resistance.  He  asked  me  to  dinner,  and 
ever  after  was  one  of  my  warmest  friends.  When 
I  was  through,  I  charged  them  fifty  dollars,  and  got 
it  after  two  years;  and  it  came  in  good  time,  as  I 
was  then  in  a  close  place. 

My  appointments  were  Park  City  (Georgia 
Gulch),  American  Gulch,  Galena  Gulch,  Delaware 
Flats,  Gold  Run,  Lincoln  City,  Mayo  Gulch,  and 
Breckenridge.  It  was  a  two  weeks'  circuit.  I 
preached  once  at  least  in  Gibson  Gulch,  and  I 
must  say  that  we  had,  without  an  exception,  good 
behavior  and  good  attention.  Although  we  all 
looked  rough,  the  miners  treated  me  and  the  cause 
of  Christ  with  respect.  Often  after  preaching  I 
was  greeted  warmly,  and  some  of  them  would  say 
the  service  reminded  them  of  home.  They  were 
generally  liberal,  although  it  was  not  the  custom 
always  to  pass  the  hat,  and  sometimes  the 
preacher,  when  his  pants  began  to  wear  out,  would 
think  the  boys  rather  long  between  collections. 
It  was  common  to  give  a  dollar  all  around;  and 
to  this  day  I  would  as  soon  ask  miners  for  help, 
with  assurance  of  receiving,  as  any  class  of  men  I 
have  ever  found.  They  were  always  ready  to 
divide,  although  at  times  they  would  take  excep- 
tions to  a  man  that  wore  a  plug  hat  or  noticeably 
fine  clothes. 

I   made    me    a   pair    of    snow-shoes,    and,   of 
course,  was   not  an  expert.     Sometimes  I  would 


IN  COLORADO.  145 

fall;  and,  on  one  occasion,  as  I  was  going  down 
the  mountain  to  Gold  Run,  my  shoes  got  crossed 
in  front  as  I  was  going  very  fast.  A  little  pine- 
tree  was  right  in  my  course,  and  I  could  not  turn, 
and  dare  not  encounter  the  tree  with  the  shoes 
crossed ;  and  so  threw  myself  "into  the  ,snow,  and 
went  in  out  of  sight. 

This  was  my  regular  round  on  the  circuit.  We 
had  a  new  field,  one  that  gave  a  good  chance  to 
read  human  nature,  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  where  moral  and  religious  restraints 
were  absent.  The  most  of  the  men  would  go  to 
the  bar  and  drink,  and  play  at  cards,  and  the  Sab- 
bath was  a  high  day  for  wickedness.  Balls  were 
the  common  amusement,  especially  in  winter. 
The  women  were  as  fond  of  this  as  the  men. 
Although  far  in  the  minority,  they  were  accosted 
like  this:  uNow,  Miss,  or  Mistress,  you  must 
surely  come,  as  we  can  't  have  a  set  or  cotillion 
without  you."  Often  the  father  was  left  with  the 
children  at  home;  at  other  times  both  went  and 
took  the  children;  and  then  the  old  bachelors 
would  hold  the  baby  so  that  the  mother  could 
dance  every  set. 

I  will  give  an  instance  at  Lincoln  City,  at  our 
hotel.  They  must  give  a  Christmas  dinner,  and,  of 
course,  a  dance  at  night.  I  concluded  to  take  din- 
ner with  them.  The  host  made  me  no  charge,  as 
it  would  be  what  we  old  bachelors  called  a  square 
meal.  As  I  was  about  to  leave,  the  ladies 
pleasantly  invited  me  to 'stay  to  the  dance.  Of 
course  I  could  not  accept  the  invitation.  But  they 

13 


146  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

said:  uYou  visit  at  our  houses,  and  you  ought  to 
show  us  respect  and  stay.''  At  the  last  came  the 
lady  of  the  house,  and  said  :  "  This  is  an  extra  oc- 
casion, and  it  will  be  no  harm  for  you  to  dance 
with  me;  why  can't  you  accept  my  offer?"  The 
reply  was :  "  You  're  a  lady,  but  not  quite  hand- 
some enough  for  me  to  dance  with."  She  was 
taken  back  at  that,  and  the  others  laughed,  and  I 
got  out,  as  my  cabin  was  only  two  hundred  feet 
away.  They  soon  fiddled  me  to  sleep.  But  they 
danced  till  daylight,  and  often  drank  at  the  bar. 
Being  full,  and  having  no  place  to  sleep,  they 
went  up  to  Walker's  saloon.  He  made  some  hot 
sling,  and  that  set  them  off.  They  declared  that 
every  man  in  town  must  get  up,  and  the  preacher 
should  treat  the  company  or  make  a  temperance 
speech.  It  was  just  daylight  when  we  heard  them 
on  the  street,  and  as  they  had  always  passed  me 
before,  I  turned  the  key  and  hoped  they  would  do 
so  again.  But  when  they  found  the  door  fast  they 
said :  "If  you  don't  open  it  we  will  break  it  in." 
I  threw  it  open  and  invited  them  in  ;  but  they 
said  :  "  We  have  come  to  take  you  up  to  Walker's, 
and  you  can  either  treat  or  make  a  temperance 
speech."  I  requested  them  to  let  me  eat  break- 
fast first;  but  they  said:  "You  must  go  now."  I 
slipped  out,  leaving  the  door  open,  and  went  ahead 
of  the  company. 

Soon  there  were  over  forty  men,  and  they  called 
a  chairman  or  moderator ;  but  they  were  too  drunk 
to  be  moderated.  I  got  upon  a  box  and  stated 
my  arrest,  and  proposed  to  make  the  speech. 


IN  COLORADO.  147 

They  said:  uGo  on."  I  said:  " Gentleman,  first  I 
will  tell  you  what  I  think!  There  is  not  a  man 
here  but  would  be  ashamed  for  his  father,  mother, 
sisters,  or  brothers,  to  know  just  our  condition 
here  this  morning."  They  stamped  and  roared 
out,  "That's  so,"  all  over  the  house.  uAnd 
next,"  I  continued,  "if  we  were  not  so  drunk,  we 
would  not  be  here."  (Cheers,  "  That 's  so,  too !"  all 
over  the  house.)  "And  if  we  were  a  little  drunker, 
we  could  not  do  as  we  are  now  doing."  (Cheers 
and  "That's  so!"  all  over  the  house.)  I  wound 
up  and  was  about  to  take  leave,  but  the  judge 
said:  "I  move  that  we  vote  that  every  thing 
Mr.  Dyer  has  said  is  true;"  and  they  gave  a  rous- 
ing vote.  He  said,  "The  ayes  have  it,"  but  that  I 
must  not  go  yet ;  and  made  and  put  a  motion  that 
they  all  give  Mr.  Dyer  one  dollar  apiece;  and 
that  was  also  carried.  They  took  the  hat,  got 
twenty  dollars,  and  I  thanked  them  and  went 
home  to  breakfast. 


148  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SNOW-SHOES. 

S  all  the  mining  was  gulch  or  placer  diggings, 
a  great  part  of  the  people  left  in  the  fall  to 
winter — some  for  Denver,  others  for  Canon  City 
or  Colorado  City,  some  crossing  the  Missouri 
River  with  ox-teams.  Only  a  few  would  come 
back  in  the  spring;  for  men  did  not  come  to 
Pike's  Peak — as  it  was  called — to  stay,  but  to 
make  a  raise,  and  then  go  back. 

In  the  summer  of  1861  a  troop  of  theatrical 
performers  came  across  to  Summit  County,  and 
played  in  all  the  camps — Sunday  morning  at  one 
place,  and  in  the  evening  at  another.  I  thought 
the  devil  was  traveling  the  circuit  as  well  as  my- 
self. I  have  thought  less  of  theaters  ever  since. 
There  is  little  about  them  but  evil.  We  had  some 
miners  who  would  go  to  the  dance  or  theaters. 

But  the  best  work  done  was  a  revival  at 
Gold  Run,  in  the  midst  of  winter.  The  snow 
was  about  six  feet  deep.  We  concluded  to  hold  a 
protracted  meeting  at  the  above  place,  where  we 
had  four  members,  and  only  about  twenty-five 
people,  all  told.  From  the  first,  the  meetings  were 
interesting.  Irrespective  of  denominations,  all 
began  to  work  in  earnest.  Seventeen  was  the 
average  attendance,  and  about  that  number  were 
warmed  up,  reclaimed,  or  converted.  We  called  it 


SNOW-SHOES. 


149 


a  good  revival  on  a  small  scale.  A  more  enjoy- 
able time  I  have  seldom  had.  Among  those 
present  were  Dr.  John  McKaskill  and  wife,  and 
J.  T.  Lynch,  the  former  of  whom  were  in  Kansas 
the  last  I  heard,  and  the  latter  in  Utah. 

In  March,  1863,  I  received  my  appointment 
from  Kansas  Conference.  My  work  up  to  this 
time  had  been  as  a  supply.  Through  the  presid- 
ing elder,  L.  B.  Dennis,  I  was  readmitted.  It  was 
a  surprise,  for  I  had  not  made  up  my  mind  to  stay 
in  the  mountains.  This  decided  me  to  stand  the 
storms  and  leave  the  events  with  God,  and  do  the 
best  I  could  to  build  up  the  Church  in  this  wil- 
derness country.  I  was  put  down  for  South  Park, 
and  on  the  third  day  of  April  left  Lincoln  City 
and  stopped  at  Mr.  Silverthorn's,  in  Breckenridge, 
until  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  I 
took  my  carpet-sack,  well  filled,  got  on  my  snow- 
shoes,  and  went  up  Blue  River.  The  snow  was 
five  feet  deep.  It  might  be  asked,  "  Why  start  at 


SNOW-SHOES  AND   STAFF. 

two  o'clock?"  Because  the  snow  would  not  bear 
a  man  in  daytime,  even  with  snow-shoes.  From 
about  two  o'clock  until  nine  or  ten  in  the  morning 
was  the  only  time  a  man  could  go ;  and  a  horse 


150  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

could  not  go  at  all.  When  about  three  miles  up 
the  Blue  River,  back  of  McCloud's,  the  wolves  set 
up  a  tremendous  howling  quite  near.  I  was  not 
armed,  but  passed  quietly  along,  and  was  not  dis- 
turbed. It  was  not  likely,  I  thought,  that  the 
good  Lord  would  let  anything  disturb  a  man  going 
in  the  night  to  his  appointment,  although  wolves 
and  bears,  with  some  Rocky  Mountain  lions,  were 
numerous. 

I  reached  Montgomery  about  nine  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  The  snow  drifted  above  the  tops 
of  the  doors.  All  along  the  streets  steps  had  been 
made  in  the  snow,  and  served  as  stairs  to  get  into 
the  stores  and  houses.  There  were  some  two  or 
three  hundred  people  in  town,  among  them  seven 
members.  I  must  mention  Brother  and  Sister 
Gurton,  and  Brother  and  Sister  Fowler.  I  stayed 
eight  days,  and  held  service  each  evening;  on 
Sunday  twice.  Two  or  three  professed  to  be  re- 
claimed, and  we  all  were  revived.  My  circuit  em- 
braced the  above,  with  Buckskin  Joe,  Mosquito, 
Fair  Play,  and  Tarryall.  Buckskin  Joe  was  so 
called  from  the  nickname  given  to  a  prospector 
wearing  a  suit  of  that  material. 

Tarryall  was  discovered  in  1860.  Some  very 
rich  claims  were  opened,  and  soon  all  were  taken. 
The  news  spread,  and  prospectors  by  the  thousands 
came,  but  with  no  chance  to  get  a  foot  of  ground ; 
so  they  all  tarried,  and  hence  the  name  Tarry- 
all.  From  there  the  prospectors  went  every  way, 
and  some  struck  pay  dirt  in  the  Platte,  and  called 
it  Fair  Play,  as  they  claimed  to  be  more  liberal. 


SNOW-SHOES.  151 

This  was  a  two-weeks'  circuit.  Brother  Wm. 
Howbert  was  preacher  in  charge  a  part  of  1860 
and  1 86 1,  and  Brother  Loyd  in  1862,  a  part  of  the 
year. 

Mosquito  got  its  name  from  this  circumstance: 
The  miners  met  to  organize.  Several  names  were 
suggested,  but  they  disagreed,  and  a  motion  was 
made  to  adjourn  and  meet  again,  the  place  for  the 
name  to  be  left  blank.  When  they  came  together 
on  appointment,  the  secretary  opened  the  book, 
and  a  large  mosquito  was  mashed  right  in  the 
blank,  showed  it,  and  all  agreed  to  call  the  district 
Mosquito. 

In  addition  to  the  above  places,  I  went  to  Cal- 
ifornia Gulch,  as  that  place  was  not  supplied. 

Two  Mexicans,  called  Bspanosa,  who  had  be- 
come enraged  against  the  government  of  Colorado, 
came  from  near  Fort  Garland,  armed  to  kill  as  many 
Americans  as  they  could  find.  They  struck  Ar- 
kansas River  at  Hard  Scrabble,  met  Judge  Bruce, 
and  shot  and  murdered  him.  Thence  they  went 
north  to  Park  County,  and  murdered  Mr.  Addle- 
man,  and  from  there  to  near  the  Kenosha  House, 
where  they  found  two  men  camped  and  murdered 
them.  Next,  about  half-way  between  Fair  Play 
and  Alma,  they  shot  down  and  killed  a  Mr.  Carter 
in  the  road.  Just  after  they  had  rifled  his  pockets 
and  taken  his  pistol  and  most  of  his  clothes,  Mr. 
Metcalf  came  along  with  a  wagon  and  oxen, 
loaded  with  lumber.  As  he  sat  on  the  load,  they 
shot  at  him  from  a  tree  about  seventy  yards  off, 
and  gave  him  a  close  call — the  ball  striking  right 


152  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

opposite  his  heart.  But  the  ball  struck  a  pamphlet 
in  his  side  pocket,  and  glanced  so  that  it  did  not 
hurt  him.  He  of  course  halloed,  and  the  oxen 
took  fright  and  ran.  They  shot  again  at  him,  but 
missed  him ;  and  as  there  was  a  house  in  a  half  mile, 
he  got  clear  of  them.  He  was  the  first  one  that 
got  away  from  them  to  describe  them.  He  said 
they  were  negroes  or  men  blackened.  I  suppose 
he  had  never  seen  a  Mexican.  One  of  them  had 
a  broad-rimmed  white  hat;  and  after  he  was 
captured,  and  his  hat  brought  in,  Metcalf  recog- 
nized it  as  having  been  worn  by  the  man  who 
shot  at  him.  From  the  above  place  they  went 
east  to  the  Red  Hill  crossing  of  the  Denver  road, 
where  any  one  could  be  seen  coming  from  either 
way.  There  they  waited  until  two  men  came 
along  on  their  way  from  Denver  to  California 
Gulch.  They  shot  one  dead,  and  it  was  supposed 
wounded  the  other  in  the  arm.  He  retreated  down 
the  hill  to  the  foot  or  level,  where  they  caught  him 
and  knocked  a  hole  in  his  skull.  This  was  the 
last  murder  they  committed.  This  was  late  in  the 
evening.  The  next  morning  the  word  came  to 
Fair  Play  that  just  over  Red  Hill  there  were 
two  men  that  had  been  murdered,  lying  by  the 
roadside. 

At  this  time  there  were  a  few  soldiers  at  Fair 
Play.  A  number  were  sent  to  bring  in  the  dead 
bodies,  and  try,  if  possible,  to  capture  the  mur- 
derers. Just  as  the  soldiers  passed  the  second 
dead  body,  they  saw  a  man  coming  on  the  road, 
whom  they  at  first  thought  to  be  a  traveler.  But 


SNOW-SHOES.  153 

seeing  them  about  the  same  time,  and  having 
heard  of  the  numerous  murders  on  the  road,  he 
thought  they  would  surely  kill  him ;  and  dropping 
his  coat  in  the  road,  put  out  south.  The  soldiers 
seeing  him  run,  thought  he  was  the  man  they 
wanted,  and  so  followed  after  him  at  full  speed. 
He,  being  a  man  in  the  prime  of  life  and  active, 
especially  on  this  occasion,  made  a  good  race. 
The  word  came  to  Fair  Play  that  they  were  after 
the  murderer,  and  another  company  started  on 
horses  to  try  to  head  him  off.  But  Mr.  John 
Foster — for  that  was  his  name — evaded  them  all. 
At  one  time  his  pursuers  were  very  close  on  him, 
as  he  passed  over  a  sharp  ridge,  but  he  got  over 
before  they  got  quite  to  the  top,  and  that  gave  him 
a  chance  to  turn  his  course  and  throw  them  off 
his  track.  After  running  fifteen  or  twenty  miles, 
he  reached  Fair  Play  in  his  socks,  without  coat 
or  hat.  As  the  people  saw  him  in  his  plight,  they 
halloed:  "There  comes  the  murderer!"  But  I 
recognized  him,  as  he  kept  a  "Methodist  hotel" 
in  California  Gulch,  and  kept  in  between  them 
and  him  until  he  got  to  the  first  house.  The  door 
being  open  he  went  in,  and  it  was  some  time  be- 
fore he  could  relate  his  feat,  as  he  was  very  short 
of  breath  and  badly  scared,  and  did  not  know  till 
then  but  it  was  the  murderers  that  had  been  run- 
ning him  so  close.  After  a  while  his  pursuers 
came,  feeling  mortified  that  he  got  away  from  them ; 
but  when  the  facts  were  known,  they  felt  relieved, 
for  although  they  had  been  outrun,  they  had  been 
saved  from  killing  an  innocent  man. 


154  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

I  shall  not  forget  that  week  or  ten  days  of  in- 
tense excitement.  Everybody  was  alarmed.  The 
five  murdered  men  were  buried  at  Fair  Play.  The 
sickening  sight  of  the  dead,  and  the  thought,  Who 
would  be  the  next?  set  the  few  inhabitants  into 
almost  a  panic.  During  the  time,  word  came  that 
a  man  was  harbored  at  a  ranch  some  fifteen  miles 
east,  and  a  company  went  over  about  night  and 
demanded  him.  The  family  would  not  let  them 
in.  They  guarded  the  house.  There  was  a  shot 
fired  from  within  which  killed  a  mule.  When  day- 
light appeared  they  gave  the  inmates  just  a  few 
minutes  to  surrender  the  man,  under  the  alterna- 
tive of  having  the  house  burned.  They  went  in 
and  took  the  man,  and  made  the  ranchman  give 
property  to  the  full  value  of  the  mule,  and  ordered 
him  to  leave.  They  took  the  prisoner  near  to 
Fair  Play,  and  without  trial  or  jury,  hanged  him, 
although  he  denied  being  guilty  of  any  crime  for 
which  he  deserved  death.  But  poor  Baxter  had 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  hard  men  in  an  evil  hour. 
This  was  a  mob,  and  nothing  better  ever  comes 
of  such  work. 

But  to  return  to  the  pursuit  of  the  Mexicans. 
The  people  started  a  company  on  their  trail  from 
Red  Hill.  As  they  had  two  ponies,  they  were 
easily  trailed  south,  and  finally  were  overtaken  at 
breakfast  in  the  chaparral.  The  pursuers  waited 
for  them  to  go  out  of  the  brush  to  get  their  ponies. 
At  last  only  one  of  them  went  out,  and  John  said 
to  Joe:  "Can  you  shoot  him?"  He  said,  "Yes;" 
and  with  his  deadly  rifle,  brought  him  to  the 


SNOW-SHOES.  155 

ground.  The  Mexican  tried  to  shoot,  but  was  not 
able  to  do  it.  One  of  the  avengers,  whose  brother 
had  been  shot  by  them,  craved  the  privilege  to 
finish  the  wounded  man  by  shooting  him  in  the 
head.  The  other  Mexican  ran,  and  got  upon  a 
pinnacle  of  rocks  that  hung  almost  over  where 
they  were.  While  Mr.  Lamb,  who  shot  first,  was 
stooping  over  the  dead  Mexican,  to  see  whether 
he  had  shot  him  as  he  intended,  the  other  Mexi- 
can shot  at  him  from  the  rocks,  the  ball  passing 
through  his  hat-rim,  ranging  down  through  his 
clothes,  but  fortunately  doing  no  harm.  He  then 
made  his  escape  back  to  near  Fort  Garland,  but 
was  afraid  to  be  seen.  He  got  one  of  his  nephews, 
and  they  took  up  their  residence  in  the  mountains 
for  some  time.  They  would  come  into  the  settle- 
ments on  the  sly  for  provisions.  A  woman  found 
.out  where  they  kept  themselves,  and  told  it.  Mr. 
Thomas  Tobin  took  a  company  of  five  or  six  men, 
and  went  in  search  of  them.  As  there  was  a 
bounty  for  their  heads,  both  were  shot — the  old 
man  falling  dead  in  his  tracks ;  the  young  one,  al- 
though mortally  wounded,  running  some  distance 
before  he  expired.  That  ended  the  Espanosa 
trouble.  What  I  have  given  was  most  of  it  done 
on  my  route  of  travel,  so  I  had  a  good  oppor- 
tunity to  know  the  facts.  It  was  a  hard  blow  on 
Park  County.  One  mother  yet  lives  to  mourn  the 
loss  of  her  son ;  and  sorrowful  traces  remain  in 
the  memory  of  all  the  inhabitants.  It  was  a  most 
daring  and  deplorable  outrage. 


156  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

COLORADO  CONFERENCE. 

"CURING  the  alarm  occasioned  by  the  murder- 
<J— '  ous  raid  of  the  Espanosas,  I  went  around 
my  circuit  once.  I  had  been  two  years  traveling 
in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  had  carried  no 
weapons  but  a  pocket-knife,  and  used  that  mostly 
to  cut  shavings  and  my  broiled  meat.  Some  of 
my  friends  advised  me  to  arm  myself,  or  to  stop 
for  a  time;  but  I  could  not  see  it.  I  told  them  I 
would  trust  to  getting  along  when  the  murderers 
were  not  watching;  and  while  they  had  got 
weapons  from  every  man  they  had  killed,  if  they 
got  me  they  would  find  no  pistol  to  add  to  their 
arsenal.  Firft,  I  did  not  have  money  to  buy  a 
pistol;  and,  in  the  second  place,  I  had  been  sent 
there,  and  my  appointments  were  out,  and  for  two 
years  I  had  passed  all  sorts  of  men,  and  often 
slept  alone  under  the  shelter  of  a  pine-tree,  when 
I  had  reason  to  believe  the  Rocky  Mountain  lion 
and  the  savage  bear  were  my  nearest  neighbors, 
and  had  never  been  molested.  I  felt  that  I  was 
still  in  the  hands  of  that  same  God  whom  I  tried 
to  serve;  and  that  He  who  had  kept  me  from 
being  a  prey  to  the  wild  beasts,  would  keep  me, 
if  it  was  best,  from  these  unknown  murderers. 

So  I  started  from  Fair  Play  to  Mosquito   on 
foot;    and  about  half-way  I  saw  the  clotted  blood 


COLORADO  CONFERENCE.  157 

of  Mr.  Carter,  who  had  been  shot  in  the  road  two 
days  before.  I  stayed  at  Fair  Play  two  or  three 
days,  where  my  exciting  experience,  above  re- 
cited, occurred.  I  filled  all  my  appointments, 
saw  no  danger,  and  was  scared  only  once.  As  I 
left  Fair  Play  for  Montgomery  a  slight  fall  of  snow 
made  the  pine-trees  all  white.  A  bush  about  five 
feet  high  stood  under  the  cover  of  a  larger  one, 
and  so  had  no  snow  on  it.  It  showed  dark  on  the 
snow.  Just  as  I  passed  where  the  Mexicans  had 
killed  Mr.  Carter  and  shot  at  Mr.  Metcalf,  I  saw 
the  bush,  and  as  it  was  partly  hid  behind  the 
body  of  the  tree,  it  looked  as  though  it  might  be  a 
man  looking  for  a  victim.  While  I  was  walking 
in  the  road,  and  had  my  eye  fixed  intently  on  the 
object,  a  prairie-dog,  within  three  feet  of  me,  at 
the  side  of  the  road,  gave  a  sudden  bark.  It  was 
so  close  and  unexpected  that  I  jumped  as  high 
as  I  possibly  could ;  and  right  there  had  all 
the  fun  to  myself,  as  the  dog  had  gone  into  his 
hole.  It  made  an  impression  on  my  mind  that 
will  not  be  forgotten.  What  an  alarm  it  would 
have  made  if  I  had  gone  back,  and  said  I  had 
seen  a  -man  crouching  behind  a  tree  !  The  mur- 
derer had  not  been  caught,  and  such  a  report 
would  have  aroused  the  whole  community.  A 
man  should  never  allow  himself  to  be  mistaken, 
and  start  a  false  alarm,  especially  at  such  times. 

When  this  excitement  finally  died  out,  I 
preached  generally  three  times  on  Sunday.,  and 
sometimes  twice  in  the  week,  averaging  four  ser- 
mons a  week.  Besides,  I  managed  to  have  a  little 


158  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

time  week-days  to  work.  Thus  I  got  me  a  pony, 
and  concluded  to  prospect  some  in  Pennsylvania 
Gulch,  which  had  been  abandoned.  There  were 
several  cabins  unoccupied.  No  one  lived  nearer 
than  two  miles.  I  packed  my  blankets  and  pro- 
visions, and  took  the  boarding-house  for  a  parson- 
age, and  worked  as  I  could  get  time  for  three 
weeks.  Once  during  the  time  we  had  a  week- 
night  meeting,  and  I  rode  back  home  through  the 
dark,  and  staked  the  pony  out  to  grass.  My 
house  was  thirty-six  feet  long  and  fifteen  feet 
wide;  had  a  door  in  one  corner,  and  the  chimney 
in  the  opposite  end.  I  felt  my  way  to  the  fire- 
place, lighted  a  match  and  set  some  pine  leaves  and 
limbs  in  a  blaze.  There  were  six  bedsteads  along 
one  side  of  the  house.  The  springs  were  pine 
poles.  All  at  once  I  heard  something  try  to  get 
up  through  the  poles.  My  first  thought  was  that 
it  was  a  Rocky  Mountain  lion.  I  caught  the 
poker — a  stick  four  feet  long — and  struck  at  it 
twice,  but  failed  to  hit  it.  But  when  it  got  to  the 
end  of  the  room  it  made  for  the  door,  and  I  took 
it  a  back-handed  lick  and  knocked  its  brains  out, 
and  it  went  heels  over  head  against  the  door.  I 
heard  the  quills  rattle,  and  then  knew  that  it  was 
a  porcupine. 

As  I  was  not  successful  in  mining,  it  was  more 
convenient  to  settle  in  Mosquito  town.  Very  soon 
I  was  notified  that  Bishop  E.  R.  Ames  would  be 
in  Denver  to  organize  us  into  a  separate  confer- 
ence, and  that  closed  my  brief  connection — only 
about  four  months — with  the  Kansas  Conference. 


COLORADO  CONFERENCE.  159 

In  order  that  the  reader  may  have  a  better 
notion  of  our  peculiar  experiences  among  the 
rough  men  of  the  frontier  and  mining  camps,  I 
will  here  give  a  few  instances:  With  Brother 
Win.  Antis  I  held  a  protracted  meeting  in  a 
mountain  town  for  two  weeks.  During  the  time, 
there  was  a  ball  that  was  wont  to  be  called  re- 
spectable ;  but  a  man  that  kept  a  house  of  ill-fame 
went.  One  of  the  would-be  leaders  ordered  him 
away.  He  went  home,  and  the  next  morning  the 
fellow  who  ordered  him  away  took  his  gun,  went 
to  his  house  and  asked  for  him,  and  fatally  shot 
him  as  he  rose  up  in  bed.  I  took  dinner  at  the 
same  restaurant,  and  sat  opposite  the  murderer. 
He  ate  but  little,  and  every  nerve  trembled.  He 
skipped  the  country  before  night. 

We  had  quite  an  attendance  at  the  log  church. 
Some  were  reclaimed  and  some  converted,  not- 
withstanding they  had  a  dancing-school  each 
week,  a  ball  as  often,  and  a  theater. 

I  visited  many  families.  In  one  place  the 
parents  were  over  forty  years  old ;  a  boy  sixteen. 
When  inquiries  were  made  as  to  their  religious 
experience,  the  woman  said  she  belonged  to  the 
Baptists.  I  assured  her  the  preacher  was  glad  to 
see  a  member  of  any  Church,  and  invited  her  to 
help  us ;  but  she  replied  that  she  could  not,  be- 
cause she  was  taking  her  first  lessons  in  dancing. 
Poor  woman  !  In  the  spring  she  left  son  and  hus- 
band, and  took  up  with  another  man.  The  danc- 
ing-school referred  to  was  the  first  institution  of 
learning  I  heard  of  in  these  mountains. 


160  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

Jealousy  was  excited  to  such  an  extent  by 
these  dances  that  separations  were  frequent;  and 
the  women  generally  left,  sometimes  deserting 
several  children.  I  was  in  a  small  town  one 
morning,  and  there  was  a  man  whose  distress  was 
apparent  to  all.  On  inquiry,  we  saw  another  man 
with  his  wife,  already  seated  in  the  stage.  She 
was  leaving  him  alone,  as  there  were  no  children. 
He,  however,  got  a  seat  in  the  same  stage,  and 
went  to  Denver  also.  The  dishonest  wretch  kept 
her  a  few  days  and  left  her.  But  her  husband 
took  her  again,  and  went  to  the  States.  The 
sequel  is  not  known. 

But  there  was  another  case  in  the  same  place, 
where  the  woman  did  not  fare  so  well.  The 
writer  one  Sunday  was  preaching,  and  was  led  to 
speak  against  the  evils  so  prevalent;  among 
others,  of  men  persuading  the  wives  of  their 
neighbors  to  go  to  the  dance  with  them.  I  de- 
scribed a  case  almost  exactly  that  had  occurred 
the  day  before,  but  had  no  knowledge  even  of  the 
ball.  The  parties  were  all  there,  and  of  course 
were  mad,  and  almost  ready  to  fight.  The  better 
part  thought  I  was  too  personal,  so  I  apologized 
like  this :  First,  I  knew  nothing  of  such  a  thing 
occurring  so  lately;  and,  in  the  next  place,  the 
evils  of  dancing  were  such  a  curse  to  community 
that  no  man  could  say  too  much  against  it,  or 
against  the  sin  of  creeping  into  their  neighbors* 
houses  and  leading  silly  women  away  from  their 
families  and  thereby  destroying  the  peace  of 
the  household.  This  case  turned  out  thus:  The 


COLORADO  CONFERENCE.  161 

woman  left  for  Denver  with  a  wretch  in  human 
form.  He  kept  her  a  few  weeks  and  left  her ;  and 
the  poor  thing  was  without  friends,  and,  it  was 
said,  died  in  a  barn.  The  evils  of  balls  will 
never  be  revealed  until  the  great  day  of  accounts. 
I  used  to  say  that  the  people  must  not  expect 
anything  from  a  preacher  but  opposition  to  danc- 
ing, since  John  the  Baptist  lost  his  head  through 
the  flirtations  of  a  silly  girl.  But  I  always  felt 
incapable  of  doing  the  subject  justice. 

14 


162  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  CONFERENCE. 

IN  1863  Bishop  E.  R.  Ames  organized  in  Den- 
ver what  we  called  the  Rocky  Mountain  Con- 
ference, now  known  as  the  Colorado  Conference. 
The  bishop  said  he  was  opposed  to  organizing 
with  less  than  two  districts,  although  there  were 
only  about  eight  appointments.  Oliver  A.  Willard 
and  W.  B.  Slaughter  were  the  presiding  elders, 
and  I  was  appointed  to  South  Park,  which  em- 
braced Park  and  Lake  Counties  and  about  twelve 
members  scattered  over  the  whole  work. 

I  had  walked  one  hundred  miles  to  be  at  the 
conference,  and  returned  on  foot  to  my  work, 
without  any  missionary  aid.  The  bishop  preached 
in  the  theater  at  Denver,  and  took  up  a  col- 
lection. He  told  the  audience  that  he  would 
leave  the  money  in  the  country  among  the 
people  ;  so  he  divided  it  among  needy  preach- 
ers. Out  of  $71.60  he  gave  me  $20,  which  just 
about  paid  my  conference  expenses.  Mr.  J.  W. 
Smith  gave  me  a  cabin,  and  I  set  to  work  to  keep 
bachelor's  hall.  Gulch-mining  was  the  principal 
dependence.  The  water  failed  in  many  places, 
and  there  .being  some  excitement  in  Idaho  and 
Montana,  about  one-third  of  the  people  left  for  the 
bonanzas.  What  members  remained  were  so  poor 
that  they  could  not  get  away.  This  was  about 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  CONFERENCE.        163 

the  state  of  the  case  with  the  parson.  Winter 
was  approaching,  and  with  what  little  could  be 
expected  from  collections  and  all  I  had  on  hand, 
I  had  not  more  than  half  enough  to  carry  me 
through.  I  bought  three  sacks  of  flour  at  fifteen 
dollars  a  sack,  and  had  to  trust  Providence  for 
most  of  the  rest.  I  preached  four  times  a  week. 

About  midwinter  I  found  myself  without 
means,  and  so  sought  work,  but  could  get  none, 
unless  I  would  work  on  Sundays,  which  was  out 
of  the  question  when  necessary,  except  to  prevent 
actual  starvation. 

In  the  forepart  of  February,  a  man  came  to 
me  who  had  the  contract  to  carry  the  mail  from 
Buckskin  Joe  to  Cache  Creek  by  Oro,  California 
Gulch,  a  distance  of  thirty-seven  miles.  He  had 
carried  it  as  long  as  he  could  on  a  mule.  It  was 
once  a  week,  and  he  offered  me  eighteen  dollars 
a  week  to  carry  it  on  snow-shoes.  I  thought  at 
once:  "I  can  preach  about  as  often  as  I  have  been 
doing,  and  am  not  obliged  to  go  on  Sunday."  So 
I  took  the  mail,  and  crossed  the  Mosquito  Range 
every  week,  and  preached  three  times  a  week. 

Right  here  let  me  tell  how  I  came  out.  This 
was  war-times,  and  the  currency  was  greenbacks. 
In  California  Gulch  and  Cache  Creek  they  were 
drifting  out  gold-dust  all  winter.  Gold  was  on 
the  rise,  so  that  an  ounce  of  dust  brought  over 
forty  dollars  in  greenbacks,  and  so  I  added  ex- 
change to  my  business  and  became  expressman, 
and  got  the  per  cent  agreed  on.  One  man  gave 
me  five  dollars  each  time,  and  I  carried  all  he  had 


164  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

to  send.  At  one  time  I  had  enough  dust  to  bring 
in  Denver  thirty-seven  hundred  dollars  in  currency. 
Suffice  it  to  say,  I  made  over  three  times  more  ex- 
pressing than  my  wages  for  mail-carrying.  I 
boarded  myself,  or  paid  my  board,  received  forty 
dollars  on  the  circuit,  and  at  the  end  of  five 
months,  had  twelve  hundred  dollars ;  and  a 
Brother  Fisher,  who  had  three  hundred  dollars, 
missionary  aid  at  Colorado  City,  drew  half,  and 
left  for  Kansas.  Bishop  Ames  ordered  Brother 
Slaughter,  the  presiding  elder,  to  pay  me  the  re- 
maining one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  This  was 
the  first  year  of  my  itinerancy  that  I  made  any 
money.  We  had  four  quarterly  meetings,  but 
sickness  and  stormy  weather  prevented  the  pre- 
siding elder's  attendance.  No  effort  was  made  to 
raise  his  salary,  except  when  he  attended.  Brother 
Slaughter  was  a  good  man,  every  way  acceptable; 
but  his  health  was  poor,  and  the  country  was  al- 
most too  new  and  rough,  and  he  left  before  the 
next  conference. 

Now  for  some  of  the  incidents  in  the  mail- 
service.  The  mail's  weight  was  from  twenty-three  to 
twenty-six  pounds,  with  from  five  to  seven  pounds 
of  express  matter.  The  carriage  was  on  snow-shoes, 
over  an  Indian  trail  that  was  covered  from  three 
to  twenty  feet  with  snow.  My  snowr-shoes  were  of 
the  Norway  style,  from  nine  to  eleven  feet  in 
length,  and  ran  well  when  the  snow  was  just 
right,  but  very  heavy  when  they  gathered  snow. 
I  carried  a  pole  to  jar  the  sticking  snow  off.  Suf- 
fice it  to  say  that  the  winter  of  1863  and  1864  was 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  CONFERENCE.         165 

a  remarkably  hard  one,  and  the  spring  held  on 
until  June,  with  terrible  snow-storms.  I  was  the 
first  to  cross  the  Mosquito  Range  with  a  horse. 
That  was  the  third  day  of  July.  I  carried  a 
shovel,  but  did  not  have  to  use  it.  The  mail- 
bags  went  the  trip  across  and  back  every  week. 
I  had  for  two  weeks  a  substitute.  There  was  no 
cabin  from  Mosquito  to  California  Gulch,  and  no 
one  living  between  the  Gulch  and  Cache  Creek. 
At  first  I  had  no  company,  say  the  first  month. 
After  that  I  often  went  in  the  night,  as  it  thawed 
in  the  day  so  that  it  was  impossible  to  travel, 
and  passengers  sought  to  go  with  me.  A  man 
came  up  from  Denver,  and  we  had  a  hard  trip. 
He  begged  me  to  stop.  On  top  of  the  range  he 
lay  down  to  sleep,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that 
I  could  get  him  up.  I  knew  that  if  he  went 
to  sleep,  chilled  as  we  were,  he  would  never  awake 
until  the  judgment.  We  finally  reached  Oro  City 
at  breakfast- time.  That  man  was  one  of  the 
leaders  of  a  mob  that  caused  the  death  of  a  num- 
ber of  better  men  than  he  was.  One  of  his  vic- 
tims was  my  son. 

Again,  I  was  coming  over,  and  at  the  foot  of  the 
pass,  at  the  head  of  Evans  Gulch,  I  overtook  two 
men.  One,  an  old  man,  was  given  out.  I  saw  at 
once  that  it  was  death  with  him  without  a  des- 
perate effort.  It  was  seven  miles  back,  and  farther 
ahead,  to  a  house,  and  the  wind  piercingly  cold. 
It  seemed  impossible  to  make  him  believe  he  could 
walk  either  way.  The  snow  and  wind  were  blow- 
ing so  that  a  man  could  hardly  stand.  I  deter- 


1 66  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

mined  to  get  him  over  the  range  and  down  as  far 
as  the  timbers,  and  build  a  fire  and  keep  him 
from  freezing.  We  told  him  what  could  be  done, 
and  he  would  not  even  try  to  get  on  his  feet.  I 
took  hold  of  him,  and  when  he  was  about  half  up 
his  hat  blew  off,  and  the  last  I  saw  of  it  it  was 
about  thirty  feet  up,  and  the  wind  making  sport 
with  it.  He  had  on  a  soldier's  overcoat,  and  as 
the  hat  went  off  the  cape  blew  over  his  head. 
We  tied  it  fast  with  a  handerchief.  He  had  taken 
off  one  of  his  gloves,  and  it  was  so  frozen  he  could 
not  get  it  on.  I  gave  him  a  mitten,  took  his  arm, 
and  got  him  about  three  hundred  feet  up  the 
mountain,  and  he  sat  down.  I  went  back  and  got 
the  mail-sack  and  his  and  my  snow-shoes.  The  snow 
was  so  packed  on  the  west  side  of  the  range  that  we 
carried  our  shoes.  I  passed  him  three  hundred  feet, 
laid  them  down,  and  went  back  and  helped  him  up, 
and  when  we  got  to  the  load,  he  sat  down,  and  I 
carried  them  as  much  further  and  helped  him  to 
the  top,  which  was  a  mile  and  a  quarter,  and  said 
to  him :  "  Now  you  shall  walk  alone."  He  started, 
and  after  going  a  few  yards,  he  said:  " Anybody 
can  walk  down-hill."  Suffice  it  to  say,  we  all  got 
into  Mosquito  by  nine  o'clock.  The  old  man's 
fingers  and  ears  were  frosted  a  little.  He  was 
going  to  Montana,  and  said,  if  he  struck  it  big, 
he  would  remember  me.  As  I  have  never  heard 
from  him,  I  suppose  he  had  poor  luck. 

Again,  there  were  three  men — one  was  Dr. 
Hewett,  a  friend  and  acquaintance ;  another  a  boy 
about  sixteen  years  old.  As  the  men  were  not 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  CONFERENCE.         167 

used  to  such  trips,  I  took  pains  to  go  slowly 
until  we  reached  the  top  of  the  range.  The  boy 
complained  of  cold.  I  kept  my  course  to  the  pass, 
as  it  was  in  the  night,  by  the  slope  of  the  mount- 
ain, and  stopped  several  times,  and  waited  a  little 
until  I  could  see  or  hear  them  coming.  The  boy 
said  he  was  cold,  and  they  could  take  care  of 
themselves.  We  saw  them  no  more,  but  thought 
they  were  coming,  as  one  of  them  had  been  over 
before;  but  they  lost  the  course,  and  the  doctor 
missed  his  footing  and  slid  down  the  mountain 
about  three  hundred  feet,  to  a  bench  that  had 
caught  considerable  fresh  snow,  and  enabled  him 
to  stop.  If  he  had  gone  twenty  feet  further,  he 
would  have  been  carried  five  hundred  feet  to  the 
gorge  below.  His  two  companions  stood  just 
where  he  started,  and  called  loudly  for  him.  He 
heard  them,  but  was  unable  to  make  them  hear. 
He  shot  off  his  pistol,  and  they  succeeded  in  mak- 
ing a  connection,  got  safely  to  Bird's-eye  Gulch, 
followed  that  to  the  Arkansas  River,  and  went 
down  below  the  mouth  of  California  Gulch,  and 
next  day  at  noon  reached  Oro  City,  hungry  and 
weary. 

I  was  very  uneasy.  I  arrived  with  my  boy  by 
three  o'clock,  took  a  sleep,  and,  about  one  hour 
before  they  got  in,  started  with  a  man  to  the  range, 
to  try,  if  possible,  to  find  them ;  for  I  feared  some- 
thing had  befallen  them.  But  we  could  not  even 
find  their  tracks,  as  the  wind  had  covered  them 
writh  snow.  So  I  went  back  to  Mosquito;  heard 
nothing  of  them,  and  told  where  they  left  me. 


1 68  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

The  news  got  back  to  Denver.  The  friends  of 
one  of  them  were  preparing  for  a  funeral,  when 
they  heard,  to  their  great  joy,  of  their  safety. 

Another  time,  for  some  cause,  the  stage  failed 
for  a  week  to  come  from  Denver,  and  the  next 
time  we  had  two  weeks'  mail,  and  four  passengers 
bound  for  California  Gulch ;  and  we  were  obliged 
to  go  mostly  in  the  night,  while  the  snow  was 
solid.  At  the  hotel,  while  at  dinner,  the  passen- 
gers inquired  for  the  mail-carrier,  and  I  was  pointed 
out  to  them.  One,  an  Irishman,  said:  "Is  this 
Mr.  Dyer?"  "Yes,  sir."  "Well,  we  are  glad  to 
see  you.  We  want  to  go  over,  and  we  would  n't  go 
with  anybody  else,  as  we  have  been  told  you  are 
so  well  acquainted  with  the  range."  "  Be  assured 
I  am  glad  to  have  the  company  of  four  such  strong 
young  men,  as  I  have  two  sacks  to  take  over;  and 
if  you  join  together,  it  will  be  easy  for  you  to  carry 
one,  and  I  will  guide  you  all  safe  over."  He  at 
once  stopped  his  blarney,  but  the  others  were  will- 
ing to  accept  the  proposition;  but  as  soon  as  din- 
ner was  over,  the  Irishman  began  to  make  fun  of 
his  comrades;  said  he  would  not  carry  the  mail, 
and  could  go  just  as  well  as  anybody,  and  that  they 
did  not  need  a  guide.  In  due  time  we  all  set  out, 
and  he  took  the  path  ahead  for  three  miles,  until 
he  got  to  the  crossing  of  the  creek.  He  undertook 
to  cross  on  a  pole,  but  fell,  and  came  near  falling 
into  the  water.  He  got  up,  and  started  to  find  an- 
other place  to  cross.  We  all  crossed  over  safely, 
and  he  had  to  come  back  to  get  over.  By  that 
time  we  were  ahead  of  him,  and  the  trail  was  hard 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  CONFERENCE.         169 

to  see.  He  got  lost,  and  cried  aloud.  I  answered 
him,  but  we  kept  on,  and  when  he  came  up  he  was 
all  in  a  sweat.  There  was  a  brother  Irishman 
along,  who  said:  "Now  you  have  got  to  carry  this 
mail-sack."  He  was  willing  enough.  Just  above 
timber,  we  had  about  one  mile  of  snow,  say  six 
inches  deep,  and  water  under.  He  wore  shoes,  and 
his  feet  got  wet,  and  it  was  freezing  cold.  When 
we  got  to  the  steep  part  of  the  mountain,  he  asked 
me  to  wait  until  he  could  change  his  socks,  as  his 
feet  were  wet.  He  made  the  change,  and  we  had 
gone  but  a  short  distance  until  he  began  to  cry, 
and  said,  he  was  a  ruined  man,  that  his  feet  were 
frozen — "Boo-hoo!  boo-hoo!" — and  a  little  further 
on  he  threw  himself  down  on  the  snow,  and  said 
he  would  not  have  come  for  a  thousand  dollars; 
that  his  feet  were  ruined.  He  cried  and  prayed, 
and  said,  if  his  friends  only  knew  where  he  was 
and  how  he  suffered !  I  told  his  comrade  to  pull 
him  up  on  his  feet,  and  make  him  come  along,  or 
he  would  perish.  He  took  his  hands,  and  raised 
him,  while  he  was  crying  like  a  boy  of  five  years' 
old,  and  said  to  him:  "What  the  d — 1  do  you  want 
your  friends  to  know?  I  do  n't  want  mine  to  know 
where  I  am!"  and  so  he  led  the  man  who  "could 
go  as  well  as  anybody,  without  a  guide."  We  got 
over,  and  down  to  the  nearest  timber,  and  built  a 
fire.  When  he  came  up,  his  friend  took  his  shoes 
and  socks  off,  and  said:  "Your  feet  are  not  hurt — 
they  are  as  red  as  a  turkey-gobbler's  gills."  The 
poor  fellow  sobbed  and  cried  clear  across,  with  his 
feet  aching,  but  not  frozen.  We  got  both  sacks 

15 


170  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

of  mail  through  by  three  o'  clock  in  the  morning, 
and  felt  pleased  to  have  a  sack  carried ;  and  the  mu- 
sic, crossing  the  range,  even  yet  prompts  a  smile. 

We  will  close  this  account  of  our  mail-service 
by  mentioning  two  or  three  lonely  trips.  Once, 
leaving  Mosquito  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning 
in  a  snow-storm,  when  near  timber  height,  plod- 
ding our  way  on  deep  snow,  all  of  a  sudden  I  felt 
a  jar,  and  the  snow  gave  way  under  me,  and  a 
noise  struck  my  ear  like  a  death-knell.  I  thought 
it  was  a  snow-slide,  and  turned  as  quickly  as 
possible  up  the  mountain-side.  About  a  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  ahead,  I  came  to  a  crack  six  inches 
wide,  and  the  snow  had  settled  about  six  inches. 
It  will  easily  be  believed  that  I  felt  better  on  the 
upper  side  of  the  break.  A  week  after,  there  was 
a  snow-slide  right  from  that  break  that  filled  the 
gorge  below. 

At  sunrise  I  was  near  the  summit  of  the  range, 
very  weary,  and  sat  down  under  a  large  rock.  I 
looked  through  the  snow-storm  to  the  east.  The 
sun  rose  clear,  but  across  South  Park  the  wind 
was  furious  and  full  of  snow.  The  sun  penetrated 
the  storm  so  that  the  wonders  could  be  clearly 
seen.  While  the  wind  was  blowing  the  snow  from 
the  north-west,  there  would  small  whirls  start  low 
down,  and  rising,  grow  larger,  until  they  would  be 
of  enormous  size.  The  main  storm  passed  between 
them  as  though  they  were  not  connected,  even 
as  the  mighty  current  flows  past  the  whirlpool  in 
the  water.  Although  my  situation  was  very  dis- 
agreeable, I  could  stop  a  few  minutes  and  gaze 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  CONFERENCE. 


171 


at  this  astonishing  Rocky  Mountain  scene,  sitting 
in  the  storm  to  watch  its  wondrous  ways. 

Soon  after  this  I  started  earlier;  but  it  proved 
to  be  too  much  so,  for  when  I  reached  the  other 
side  of  the  range,  there  was  snow  for  two  miles, 
and  it  would  not  quite  bear  me.  Sometimes  I 
would  go  three  steps  and  sink  to  the  waist  in  the 
snow,  and  then  three  steps  before  I  could  get  on 


CAMP-FIRE   ON  THE   MOUNTAIN. 

top  again.  It  made  the  situation  very  serious. 
About  midnight,  after  reflection,  not  fearing  human 
hands,  and  believing  that  the  wild  beasts  would 
have  more  good  manners  than  to  touch  it,  I  set 
up  the  mail-sack  on  end  in  the  snow,  and  made 
for  the  nearest  timber  off  to  the  north,  as  I  had 
seen  a  small  spot  of  bare  ground  there  when  I 
passed  before.  But  how  to  get  there!  Well,  I 
rolled  and  crawled  until  I  reached  the  timber, 


172  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

where  I  pushed  over  a  dry  stump,  and  soon  had  a 
fire  to  warm  by.  I  had  time  for  thanksgiving  and 
prayer,  even  if  I  had  no  supper.  Cutting  some 
pine-boughs,  I  made  a  bed  and  took  a  sleep,  and 
it  was  daylight  when  I  awoke.  My  first  thought, 
after  thanking  God  that  I  was  as  safe  there  in  his 
hands  as  anywhere,  was  whether  it  had  frozen  so 
that  I  could  walk.  I  started,  and  had  not  gone 
more  than  three  steps  when  I  went  down  to  the 
waist.  I  knew  it  was  softer  near  the  edge.  I 
crawled  up  and  tried  again,  and  it  bore  me.  It 
was  hardly  fair  light  when  I  reached  the  mail- 
sack,  found  it  just  as  I  left  it;  the  wolves  had 
discovered  it  and  gone  within  about  ten  feet  of  it, 
and  had  walked  around  it  until  they  had  beaten 
quite  a  path  in  the  snow,  but  never  touched  it. 
It  is  worthy  of  note  that  the  mail-carrier  had  an 
appetite  when.he  reached  Oro  City ! 

We  come  now  to  the  last  incident.  I  left  Cal- 
ifornia Gulch  about  the  middle  of  March.  It  was 
thawing,  with  alternate  snow  and  sunshine,  until 
about  one  o'clock.  The  snow  stuck  to  my  shoes 
so  that  traveling  was  very  heavy.  None  but  those 
who  have  tried  snow-shoes  when  the  snow  sticks 
to  them  can  understand  how  soon  it  will  tire  a 
man  down,  knocking  the  snow  off  at  every  step.  It 
was  so  this  time.  When  within  a  few  hundred  feet 
of  the  pass  at  the  head  of  Evans  Gulch,  I  looked 
to  the  north  and  saw  a  black  cloud  just  coming 
over.  The  wind  that  preceded  it  gave  evidence 
of  its  terror.  No  pen  or  tongue  can  describe  its 
awful  appearance.  I  fastened  and  tied  up  my 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  CONFERENCE.         173 

neck  and  ears,  and  took  its  bearings  with  refer- 
ence to  my  course  up  the  mountain,  about  how  it 
would  strike  me,  so  that  I  might  keep  my  course 
in  the  snow.  But  when  the  storm  struck  me,  I 
could  not  have  stood  up  had  I  not  braced  against 
my  snow-shoes,  which  I  had  taken  off  and  held  in 
position  for  that  purpose.  J  had  thought  I  could 
keep  my  course  by  the  bearings  of  the  storm,  but 
when  it  struck  me,  it  was  in  a  perfect  whirl,  and 
I  had  nothing  left  but  the  shape  of  the  mountains, 
and  by  this  time  the  snow  was  so  dense  that  it 
appeared  to  be  a  white  wall  within  ten  feet  in  any 
direction. 

I  found  myself  unable  to  make  more  than 
fifty  yards  before  resting,  and  had  to  hold  my 
hand  over  my  mouth  and  nose  to  keep  the  snow 
out  so  that  I  could  breathe,  bracing  with  my 
snow-shoes  in  order  to  stand.  On  the  west  side  the 
snow  all  blew  off,  so  that  I  had  to  carry  my  shoes. 
About  the  third  stop,  I  came  to  a  large  rock,  and 
braced  against  it;  and  in  the  midst  of  the  awful 
surroundings,  poured  out  my  soul  to  God  for  help, 
and  felt  encouraged  to  try,  in  his  name,  to  make 
the  trip.  I  could  not  travel  against  the  wind,  so 
I  had  to  bear  to  the  right,  which  brought  me  on 
the  range  south  of  the  old  Indian  trail,  where 
there  was  no  way  to  get  down  without  going  over 
a  precipice.  I  hoped  that  the  wind  would  abate, 
so  that  I  might  make  the  trail.  But  I  could  not 
see  anything  in  the  whirling  snow.  It  took  my 
breath,  and  I  concluded  to  retrace  my  steps;  for  I 
felt  that  to  stay  there  or  go  forward  was  equally 


174 


SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 


to  perish.  I  made  a  desperate  effort,  but  started 
east  instead  of  west.  I  had  gone  scarcely  three 
rods  when  my  foot  slipped  off  the  precipice.  I 
threw  myself  back  in  the  snow.  The  air  was  so 

thick  with  snow 
that  I  could  not 
see  how  it  was. 
I  could  not  tell 
whether  the  pitch 
was  ten  feet  or 
fifty.  The  cold 
wind  seemed  to 
be  feeling  for  my 
heart-strings,  and 
my  only  chance 
for  life  was 
to  let  myself  go 
over.  I  took  my 
long  snow-shoes, 
one  under  each 
arm,  holding  the 
crooked  end  in 
each  hand  for 
rudders,  and  be- 
lieved that  if  I 
could  thus  keep 
my  feet  foremost, 
I  said,  "O  God,  into  thy 
life,  my  all ;  my 
then,  with  com- 


A  FEARFUL  DESCENT. 


I  could  go  down  alive. 

hands  I   commit  my   soul,  my 

faith   looks   up    to    thee ;"    and 

posure,  I  let  go;  and,  as  might  be  expected,  there 

was  a  great  body  of  new,  soft  snow  for  me  to  fall 


A  FEARFUL  DESCENT. 
"  My  feet  were  foremost,  and  I  went  at  railroad  speed." 


Page  175. 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  CONFERENCE.         175 

in.  I  have  never  been  certain  how  far  it  was.  It 
was  soon  over,  and  I  was  buried  in  six  or  eight 
feet  of  new  snow  that  had  just  blown  over.  My 
heels  struck  the  old  snow,  which  must  have 
pitched  at  an  angle  of  more  than  forty-five  de- 
grees, and  my  weight  carried  me,  and  according 
to  former  desires,  my  feet  were  foremost,  and  I 
went  at  railroad  speed.  My  snow-shoes  must 
keep  me  straight.  I  was  covered  with  snow  from 
the  start.  I  raised  my  head  so  that  I  could 
breathe,  and  when  I  had  got  near  one-half  mile, 
I  began  to  slack  up,  as  I  had  passed  the  steepest 
part,  and  soon  stopped. 

I  now  discovered  that  I  was  on  the  horse-shoe 
flat  between  the  range  and  the  timber  on  Mosquito 
Creek.  I  got  up,  but  could  not  see  ten  feet,  the 
snow  was  so  thick.  But  I  knew  if  I  kept  down 
the  mountain,  I  would  come  out  all  right.  Put- 
ting on  my  snow-shoes,  I  soon  came  to  timber. 
The  first  tree  was  the  top  of  a  large  pine,  stand- 
ing just  at  the  foot  of  a  precipice.  It  was  well 
that  I  saw  it  in  time  to  turn  my  course.  I  took 
down  Mosquito  Creek.  The  snow  covered  almost 
all  the  willows  and  brush,  and  the  wind  pressed 
me  so  that  for  rods  there  was  no  need  of  taking  a 
step.  My  shoes  ran  like  skates.  The  snow  be- 
gan to  abate,  but  darkness  was  closing  in  on  me. 

When  I  was  within  one  mile  of  my  cabin,  I 
saw  a  pool  of  water  in  the  creek;  and  as  I  had 
been  fearful  for  some  time  that  my  feet  were 
frozen,  I  thought  of  Job  when  his  sons  had  been  out 
frolicking ;  he  sacrified  for  them  for  fear  they  had 


176  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

sinned.  But  it  looked  rather  rough  to  go  in  over 
my  boots  in  order  to  draw  the  frost  out,  when  I 
still  had  hopes  that  my  feet  were  not  frozen.  I 
reached  my  lonely  cabin,  started  a  fire,  and  my 
feet  began  to  hurt.  I  soon  had  them  in  the  spring, 
and  held  them  awhile,  but  it  was  too  late  to  cure. 
I  got  my  supper,  but  did  not  sleep  much.  Next 
morning  an  old  brother,  whom  everybody  called 
"Uncle  Tommy  Cummings,"  brought  a  little 
balsam  sapling,  and  we  shaved  off  the  bark,  and 
poulticed  both  of  my  feet.  The  third  week  I 
was  able  to  carry  the  mail.  Half  my  toe-nails 
sloughed  off,  with  considerable  of  the  skin.  For 
two  weeks  I  was  confined  to  the  house,  busying 
myself  reading  and  doctoring  my  feet.  I  sent  to 
H.  A.  W.  Tabor,  our  store-keeper — now  ex- 
senator — and  paid  him  sixteen  cents  a  pound 
for  corn  to  make  hominy,  which  I  considered  a 
luxury. 

Our  provisions  were  all  drawn  over  the  plains 
with  teams  of  cattle,  mules,  and  horses.  We  had 
some  sharp  fellows  that  made  a  corner  on  flour 
about  this  time,  and  the  price  was  forty  dollars 
a  sack.  Fortunately,  I  had  one  sack  on  hand 
in  Buckskin  Joe.  My  friends  in  California  Gulch 
were  out,  and  wished  me  to  supply  them.  I  tried 
to  buy  a  pack-pony,  but  could  only  find  a  pack- 
cow,  which  I  purchased  and  packed,  and  tied  to  a 
post  while  I  ate  breakfast. 

An  old  friend,  Mr.  Moody,  volunteered  to  help 
me  start.  We  tied  a  long  rope  around  her  horns 
about  the  middle,  and  he  took  the  lead,  and  I 


ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  CONFERENCE.         177 

drove.  The  cow  got  on  the  war-path,  and  bawl- 
ing, took  after  him  on  a  down  grade.  He  ran  as 
fast  as  he  could,  and  I  held  as  well  as  I  could ; 
and  the  cow  jumped  as  high  and  as  far  as  she 
could.  The  old  man  did  his  best,  and  the  old 
cow  would  light  right  at  him  every  jump.  Finally 
he  took  round  the  corner,  and  she  after  him. 
Just  then  the  cingle  broke,  and  the  pack-saddle 
with  the  flour  went  down  right  behind  her. 
Then,  lack-a-day !  she  stopped,  and  did  just  as 
cows  do  when  they  are  about  played  out. 

After  this  novel  scene  I  gave  up  the  idea  of 
trying  to  feed  the  hungry  with  temporal  bread, 
and  confined  myself  to  dispensing  the  bread  of 
life.  Some  ministers  may  say  that  the  above  was 
hardly  becoming ;  but  the  alternative  was,  either 
to  leave  the  work  and  conference,  or  earn  a  living, 
and  I  was  not  educated  up  to  the  point  that  a 
man  is  justified  in  leaving  if  the  people  do  not 
pay  a  good  salary. 

There  are  many  places  now  that  need  the 
gospel,  where  there  are  more  people  than  lived 
on  my  circuit,  and  yet  they  are  not  supplied  with 
a  preacher  of  any  denomination,  because  so  few 
feel,  "Woe  is  me  if  I  preach  not  the  gospel!" 
and  so  many  stand  at  the  corners  and  say:  "No 
man  hath  hired  me." 


178  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

MORE  ITINERATING. 

I  CONTINUED  to  carry  the  mail  till  August, 
&  and  also  acted  as  agent  for  the  Rocky  Mount- 
ain News.  On  one  occasion  I  had  collected  ten 
dollars,  and  inclosed  it  in  a  letter,  and  had  a 
number  of  other  letters  in  my  pocket  to  put  in 
the  office  at  Laurel  or  Buckskin  Joe.  I  turned 
over  about  one  thousand  dollars  in  dust  to 
the  expressman,  and  mailed  all  the  letters,  save 
the  ten-dollar  one,  which  fortunately  I  missed. 
They  started  for  Denver,  and  I  for  Breckenridge ; 
but  when  they  got  to  McLaughlin's  Ranch,  they 
were  met  by  six  or  seven  men  from  Texas,  who 
claimed  to  be  soldiers — u  Secesh,"  of  course.  Some 
of  them  had  been  here  before,  and  I  suppose  they 
thought  that  if  they  were  to  commence  hostilities, 
the  Southern  element  would  fall  in  with  them  and 
raid  the  country.  They  rode  up  to  the  stage, 
cocked  their  pistols,  and  ordered  a  surrender.  Of 
course  there  was  no  resistance,  and  the  Texas 
roughs  took  possession,  and  with  an  ax  cut  spokes 
out  of  the  wagon-wheels,  opened  the  mail-sack 
and  ransacked  its  contents,  broke  the  express  box, 
and  took  dust  and  amalgam  to  the  tune  of  two 
thousand,  more  or  less. 

When  Wm.  Berry,  who  carried  the  mail  from 
Summit    County,  reached    Hamilton,    four  miles 


MORE  ITINERATING.  179 

from  there,  some  one  told  him  of  the  robbery. 
He  had  a  lot  of  dust  which  he  wisely  hid  in  the 
stable,  and  started  ahead  of  them  to  Denver  to 
tell  the  news.  They  followed  on  to  the  Junction 
House  or  near  there,  and  camped  where  there  was 
a  high  peak,  well  adapted  for  a  look-out.  They 
hoped  to  be  joined  by  friends;  but  neither  rebels 
nor  Union  parties  paid  any  attention  to  them. 
The  former  were  afraid,  and  so  were  the  latter. 
Finally  they  broke  camp  and  marched  west,  stop- 
ping for  the  night  somewhere  between  Slatt's  and 
Georgia  Gulch.  A  company  of  miners  from  Sum- 
mit County  came  up  with  them  just  after  they  had 
unsaddled  their  horses,  and  fired  on  them,  killing 
one  and  wrounding  another  in  the  arm.  They  all 
fled — one  of  them  mounted,  the  rest  on  foot.  The 
boys  took  the  spoils,  and  but  little  of  the  money 
was  ever  accounted  for. 

We  heard  of  the  robbery  at  Breckenridge  the 
same  evening.  In  the  morning  I  started  for 
South  Park  by  Montgomery  and  Buckskin,  and 
reached  Fair  Play  before  night,  thirty  miles.  They 
had  heard  of  the  raiders  being  routed,  and  sup- 
posed they  would  flee  through  the  Park.  Thirty- 
five  of  us  made  up  a  company.  By  this  time  it 
was  dark.  We  had  a  wagon  loaded  with  pro- 
visions. The  company  crossed  the  Platte  River 
west  of  town  on  poles  and  piles  of  washed  rocks, 
tailings  from  sluicing  for  gold.  It  was  rough  and 
in  the  night.  When  the  roll  was  called,  three 
were  missing.  We  reached  the  Platte  River  just 
where  Mr.  Hartsell  now  lives,  another  twenty 


i8o  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

miles,  and  made  for  Hamilton.  We  disagreed 
about  the  proper  course  to  go  for  them,  and  I  took 
across  the  Red  Hill  to  Fair  Play.  I  got  in  at  sun- 
set, having  walked  about  what  was  called  eighty 
miles  in  the  two  days,  without  sleep.  This  was  my 
entire  experience  in  fighting  rebels.  The  next  day 
was  Sunday,  and  I  got  about  twenty-five  hearers 
and  tried  to  preach  to  them. 

The  rebels  made  their  way  south.  One  was 
taken  in  a  cabin  between  South  Park  and  Canon 
City,  and  the  remainder  at  Mr.  Toof's,  at  the 
junction  of  Beaver  Creek  and  the  Arkansas  River. 
They  had  become  hungry  and  called  for  breakfast. 
They  were  at  once  recognized  from  the  descrip- 
tion as  the  mail-robbers ;  and  while  their  meals 
were  being  prepared  help  was  secured,  and  they 
were  surrounded  and  captured  while  eating.  They 
were  turned  over  to  some  soldiers  and  taken  to 
Denver.  After  examination  there,  they  were  sent 
to  Fort  Lyons  for  further  trial.  I  saw  them  put  in 
the  wagon  at  the  door  of  the  old  jail  in  Denver, 
well  ironed.  I  noticed  one  of  the  guards  next 
them,  Abe  Williamson,  who  had  been  ordered  to 
give  up  the  lines  as  stage-driver  at  Mclaughlin's. 
They  had  said  to  him  and  Mr.  Wm.  McClelland 
(expressman)  :  "  We  will  run  this  institution." 
As  the  wagon  was  starting,  I  said  :  "  Abe,  you 
watch  them."  The  reply  was:  "You  bet."  But 
it  is  said  that  down  somewhere  north  of  where 
Colorado  Springs  now  stands,  the  prisoners  tried 
to  break  away.  That  was  the  last  of  them. 
Those  were  times  of  war  and  excitement,  not  only 


MORE  ITINERATING.  181 

by  secession  but  by  Indians.  Although  we  suf- 
fered from  the  red -skins,  we  had  no  sympathy 
from  the  East.  The  New  Englanders  seemed  to 
think  that  the  Indians  had  as  good  a  right  to  kill 
us  as  the  anarchists  think  they  have  to  throw 
dynamite  among  them. 

This  was  near  the  close  of  the  conference  year. 
I  went  to  Denver,  and  on  my  way  met  Mr. 
McClelland.  He  did  not  feel  like  running  the 
stage  unless  he  could  have  a  guard.  He  proposed 
to  sell,  and  we  made  arrangements.  He  turned 
over  the  contract  to  me.  I  at  once  thought, 
"  How  will  you  run  this  thing  and  preach  on 
a  circuit?"  and  I  answered:  "I  will  get  rid  of 
mail-carrying  in  three  weeks,  and  be  ready  for 
conference.''  Sure  enough,  I  was  satisfied  that  my 
calling  was  the  best  thing  for  me,  and  the  only 
right  course  to  pursue.  During  the  time  I  paid 
thirteen  cents  a  pound  for  Missouri  corn  by  the 
sack  in  Denver.  But  I  sold  out,  and  was  ready 
for  conference.  Although  I  lost  a  house  that  cost 
me  $150,  I  cleared  about  $100  in  the  rounds. 

This  was  a  memorable  summer.  The  Indians 
were  on  the  Plains,  and  there  was  no  traveling 
without  guards,  and  no  mail  for  almost  three 
months.  When  it  did  come,  by  the  same  mail  I 
received  two  letters  from  the  States ;  one  had  come 
straight,  the  other  around  by  San  Francisco. 

On  one  of  my  trips  with  the  mail  all  Denver 
was  on  a  craze.  The  people  were  building  a  fort 
out  of  town,  but  not  so  far  out  as  where  the  center 
now  is.  They  had  bought  a  log  cabin,  and  were 


1 8a  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

raising  it.  I  noticed  that  they  had  their  gloves  on 
in  warm  weather.  I  laughed  at  Colonel  Chiving- 
ton,  and  said  to  him  that  a  few  old  squaws  would 
upset  the  fort.  He  replied:  "  If  you  were  not  in 
the  mail  service,  and  made  light  of  and  discouraged 
our  movements,  you  might  find  yourself  in  the 
calaboose."  But  he  could  take  a  joke,  and  so  I 
had  no  prison-pen  experience  for  my  history. 

It  was  to  be  expected  that  the  people  would 
be  alarmed,  when  just  out  on  Running  Creek  there 
were  two  families  almost  exterminated.  One 
woman,  near  to  confinement,  was  ripped  open,  and 
the  child  taken  out,  and  the  Hungate  family 
brought  into  Denver  killed  and  mangled.  Those 
who  have  not  seen  such  a  sight  do  not  know  the 
effect  it  would  have  on  them.  They  would  want 
to  be  killing  Indians  or  getting  away  at  their  best 
speed.  Of  course,  Colonel  Chivington  needed 
only  say  to  the  boys  in  blue:  ''Remember  the 
Hungate  family!"  and  it  made  a  Sand  Creek 
battle. 

We  saw  these  things  in  the  light  of  self-de- 
fense. While  our  Eastern  friends  would  say, 
"  Poor  Indian  !"  my  own  observations  have  been 
that  many  of  the  whites  were  killed,  while  the 
red  man  went  free.  When  they  killed  Father 
Meeker,  with  a  number  of  others,  and  took  his 
wrife  and  daughter  prisoners,  they  were  not 
whipped,  but  got  scared  and  left.  Father  Meeker 
undertook  to  do  them  an  act  of  Christian  kind- 
ness, but  he  went  before  they  had  been  whipped. 
It  is  impossible  to  have  a  sinner  converted  unless 


MORE  ITINERATING.  183 

he  is  first  convicted  ;  and  it  is  just  as  impossible 
to  tame  and  educate  an  Indian  until  he  is  sub- 
dued. My  prayer  is  that  all  wars  may  cease,  and 
that  the  red  men  of  the  forest  may  be  civilized 
and  Christianized.  When  this  is  done,  will  there 
not  be  cause  for  a  jubilee  ?  May  God  hasten  the 
time! 

This  year  was  full  of  hard  toil,  both  spiritual 
and  physical.  One  excitement  followed  another; 
but  out  of  all  dangers,  God,  in  his  infinite  mercy, 
brought  me  safe  to  the  end  of  another  conference 
year,  which  was  unusually  long — about  fifteen 
months. 

Bishop  Clark  was  to  preside  in  the  summer  of 
1864;  but,  as  stated  above,  the  Indians  had  made 
it  impracticable,  and  the  conference  was  put  off 
till  fall.  W.  B.  Slaughter,  through  ill-health,  had 
left  the  Southern  District,  and  O.  A.  Willard  had 
not  yet  returned  from  the  East.  At  the  appointed 
time  we  assembled  at  Denver.  We  consulted  the 
brethren,  Colonel  Chivington,  Governor  Evans,  and 
others,  and  it  was  considered  best  to  go  to  Central 
City,  the  place  chosen  to  hold  the  session,  and  go 
through  with  the  business  of  the  conference.  This 
we  did,  the  writer  acting  as  chairman  in  place  of 
the  bishop,  and  B.  T.  Vincent  being  secretary. 
We  had  a  pleasant  time,  no  conflict  except  over  the 
report  of  the  Committee  on  the  State  of  the  Coun- 
try. There  were  two  reports — one  to  stand  by  our 
country,  the  other  to  stand  by  President  Lincoln. 
Brother  Chivington  was  there,  and  spoke  for  the 
Lincoln  side.  He  spread  himself,  and  made  the 


184  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

strongest  and  most  eloquent  speech  I  ever  heard 
him  make.  But  the  other  report  was  adopted; 
there  being  no  real  difference  in  patriotism  be- 
tween the  two.  This  closed  the  conference  year, 
1863-64. 

A  few  reflections  as  to  the  past  year.  It  had 
five  quarters.  I  was  sent  forth  without  any  mis- 
sionary help.  It  was  not  just.  My  good  friend, 
Bishop  Ames,  before  I  left,  on  parting,  said: 
"  Brother  Dyer,  I  hope  you  will  do  well  in  the 
mountains.  I  am  told  you  are  highly  esteemed 
out  there ;  and  it  is  well  for  you  to  know  that  you 
are  appreciated.  It  may  do  you  good."  It  was  a 
desperate  case;  but  I  resolved  to  go  and  do  what 
I  could,  survive  or  perish.  I  received  about  forty 
dollars  from  the  work.  When  winter  came  I  left 
my  pony  on  the  range,  in  the  valley,  and  took  it 
on  foot  and  on  snow-shoes,  as  above  stated.  The 
result  was,  that  when  I  settled  up  I  had  cleared 
very  nearly  a  thousand  dollars.  This  I  have  re- 
lated before,  and  recur  to  it  here  to  show  what  can 
be  done  even  in  forlorn  hopes.  As  already  stated, 
I  had  left  the  States  in  debt,  and  with  no  way  that 
I  could  see,  except  God  would  especially  help, 
ever  to  pay  out.  The  first  thing  was  to  put  aside 
about  eight  hundred  dollars  for  this  purpose. 
Then  I  took  three  hundred,  and  bought  eight 
cows.  W.  L.  Bailey  kept  them  on  shares,  and  I 
paid  no  attention  to  them.  But  it  was  known 
that  Brother  Dyer  had  some  cattle.  Soon  I  heard 
that  he  owned  a  herd  of  cattle,  and  I  found  that  if 
a  preacher  in  our  Church  had  anything  ahead,  it 


MORE  ITINERATING.  185 

was  only  a  detriment  to  him.  It  was  used  as  an 
excuse  to  give  him  a  poor  appointment ;  and  to  ex- 
cuse the  people  for  not  paying  his  salary.  I  con- 
fess that  I  did  not  always  feel  very  happy  over 
this,  especially  when  so  many  abandoned  the  work 
because  of  the  scant  pay,  and  so  many  others  be- 
cause there  were  not  enough  good  appointments 
to  hold  out.* 

My  short  experience  in  the  place  of  a  bishop — 
Brother  B.  T.  Vincent  was  the  cabinet — was  satis- 
factory, except  as  to  my  own  and  one  other  ap>- 
pointment.  From  my  personal  knowledge,  I 
thought  one  brother  ought  to  be  moved;  and 
kindly  told  him  so,  and  spoke  of  a  better  appoint- 
ment. But  he  would  not  consent,  because  he 
could  not  endure  to  have  the  news  go  back  East 
that  he  was  moved  the  first  year.  So  I  returned 
him ;  and  the  result  was  a  failure. 

As  to  my  own  appointment:  I  was  willing  to 
go  to  the  southern  part  of  the  territory,  and  take 
it  as  a  circuit,  instead  of  as  a  district.  But  I  was 
overruled.  However,  as  I  was  alone — Brother 
Peter  Smith  having  failed  to  report  as  a  supply — 
I  concluded  that  the  name  of  district  might  stand, 


*  From  my  observation  in  a  new  country  there  has  not 
been  equality  enough  in  the  division  of  our  missionary 
money.  It  is  too  often  given  where  eight  hundred  dollars  can 
be  raised  on  the  work,  while  other  places  are  neglected  on  the 
outposts,  where  a  little  help  would  enable  them  to  have  a 
preacher.  Also,  that  it  is  a  grand  mistake  to  suppose  that 
preachers  who  can  not  sustain  themselves  East  will  succeed 
on  the  frontier.  Really  there  is  no  frontier;  and  Colorado 
and  the  West  require  the  best  talent  and  consideration. 

16 


i86  SNOW-SHOK  ITINERANT. 

but  that  I  would  travel  it  as  circuit  preacher. 
Within  its  bounds  were  South  Park,  Oro  City — 
which  is  L,eadville  now — Colorado  City,  Canon 
City,  Pueblo,  and  all  south  to  Trinidad.  The  last 
half  of  the  year,  Brother  John  Gilland  preached 
as  a  supply  on  the  Oro  City  work,  including  all  the 
settlements  to  South  Arkansas  River.  The  Mission- 
ary Committee  allowed  to  Denver  District  twelve 
hundred  dollars,  and  to  the  other  appointments 
about  the  same  as  the  year  previous ;  South  Park 
District  five  hundred  dollars,  and  the  presiding 
elder  was  well  satisfied.  Our  collection  on  the 
work  was  about  one  hundred  dollars. 

From  those  who  had  traveled  there,  I  was  led 
to  feel  that  they  ought  to  have  the  gospel  in  New 
Mexico ;  and  now,  as  I  had  the  opportunity,  I  con- 
cluded to  extend  my  district  so  as  to  include  that 
country.  This  was  in  the  latter  part  of  March, 
1865,  and  the  mountains  were  almost  impassable. 
Accordingly,  I  left  Pueblo  for  Captain  Craig's 
Ranch,  twenty  miles  on  the  road  to  Trinidad.  I 
called  on  the  captain,  and  told  him  my  name,  and 
that  I  was  a  Methodist  preacher,  and  wished  to 
stay  with  him  for  the  night.  He  replied:  "Your 
denomination  doesn't  stand  very  high  with  us  at 
this  time ;  but  'light."  Notwithstanding  his  South- 
ern proclivities,  he  was  very  pleasant;  showed 
me  his  fine  improvements  and  ranch;  gave  me 
the  best  he  had;  told  his  cook  to  put  up  a  lunch, 
as  it  was  about  sixty  miles  to  the  next  settler.  I 
wished  to  go  through,  but  it  snowed  hard,  and  the 
roads  were  heavy.  At  the  Pishapah  Creek  it  was 


MORE  ITINERATING.  187 

dark.  I  could  not  see  the  road;  had  nothing  for 
the  pony,  and  but  little  left  of  my  lunch.  So  I 
hitched  up  for  the  night,  gathered  some  dead 
brush,  built  a  small  fire,  sat  on  the  saddle,  and 
covered  up  with  the  saddle-blanket.  '  It  snowed 
till  it  was  nine  inches  deep.  It  was  a  good  time 
to  reflect,  for  it  was  next  to  impossible  to  sleep. 
Daylight  came  at  last.  I  started  on;  but  such  a 
snow  to  ball  up  on  the  horse's  feet  has  not  often 
been  seen. 

At  eleven,  reached  Mr.  Gray's  ranch,  and  was 
kindly  taken  in  and  cared  for.  Next  day,  Sunday, 
with  his  consent,  I  gathered  in  some  neighbors, 
and  preached  to  about  thirty,  one-third  Mexicans. 
It  continued  so  rough  that  I  stayed  till  Tuesday 
morning,  and  went  two  miles  to  Trinidad,  where 
I  found  a  few  Mexicans  and  one  white  family.  I 
stopped  over  night  and  talked  to  them  who  could 
speak  English.  The  Mexicans  "  no  compre- 
henda."  The  next  day,  with  two  gentlemen,  I 
crossed  the  Raton  Mountain,  and  as  they  could 
speak  Spanish,  I  learned  at  least  six  Spanish 
words,  and  all  I  could  about  the  priests.  It 
seemed  that  the  priests  were  a  thrifty  lot.  They 
would  not  marry  the  poorest  couple  for  less  than 
sixteen  dollars. 

We  saw  the  tracks  of  two  footmen  in  the  snow, 
and  soon  met  some  folks  who  told  us  the  footmen 
were  a  Mexican  man  and  woman  running  off  to 
get  married.  I  thought  now  was  my  chance,  and 
told  my  companions  that  I  could  marry  them. 
One  of  the  men  rode  on  to  overtake  them.  We 


1 88  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

came  to  the  foot  of  the  mountain  where  he  had 
corraled  them  on  a  bare  spot  of  ground.  All 
things  being  ready,  and  my  companion  acting  as 
interpreter,  I  went  through  with  the  ceremony, 
and  gave  my  hand  to  the  bride,  wishing  her  much 
happiness,  and  then  to  the  groom.  He  took  hold 
with  a  mighty  grip,  and  raised  my  hand  and 
kissed  it  on  the  back,  and  handed  it  to  the  bride, 
and  she  kissed  it  too.  No  wonder  I  was  taken 
aback,  as  it  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  been 
saluted  with  a  kiss  on  the  back  of  my  hand. 

I  wrote  out  a  certificate  in  full,  stating  my 
residence  and  Church,  and  my  interpreter  trans- 
lated it  into  Spanish,  with  the  names  of  the  wit- 
nesses, and  we  all  felt  happy.  They  asked  what 
was  the  charge.  I  thought  of  the  old  prophet 
when  his  servant  came  back  after  following  Naa- 
man.  It  was  no  time  to  make  charges,  and  I  told 
them  I  never  charged  poor  people  anything. 

The  next  place  of  note  was  Maxwell's.  He 
had  a  large  house  and  ranch,  surrounded  by  Mex- 
icans and  Indians.  I  stayed  with  him  over  night. 
I  was  used  well,  and  entertained  free  of  charge. 
Got  some  information  as  to  the  settlements.  He 
told  me  there  were  several  families  down  the  Cim- 
arron  Creek,  and  advised  me  to  visit  them,  as 
they  were  Americans.  It  was  Sunday  morning. 
I  rode  seven  miles,  and  collected  about  twenty-five 
people,  and  preached  to  them.  This  was  the  first 
Protestant  service  ever  held  on  the  now  famous 
Maxwell  Land  Grant.  And  from  here  I  made 
toward  Santa  Fe,  by  way  of  Las  Vegas.  Found 


MORE  ITINERATING.  189 

but  two  or  three  Americans,  but  quite  a  village  of 
Mexicans.  Passed  through  three  Mexican  towns 
to  San  Jose,  and  reached  Santa  Fe.  I  found  a 
Baptist  minister,  the  only  Protestant  preacher  in 
New  Mexico.  He  introduced  me  to  Judge  Watts, 
a  very  intelligent  man.  He  took  great  pains  to 
inform  me  in  every  respect,  and  taught  me  some 
of  the  usages  of  the  Pueblo  Indians.  They  had 
been  taught  to  read,  but  had  degenerated,  only 
some  eight  or  ten  of  them  being  able  at  that  time 
to  read. 

As  Santa  Fe  was  one  of  the  oldest  places  in 
the  United  States,  when  the  Indians  were  whipped 
and  taken  prisoners,  the  Romish  priests  baptized 
them — they  not  being  able  to  resist.  This  was 
missionary  work. 

Tradition  said  that  Montezuma  was  born  near 
there  in  a  large  adobe  building  that  I  had  passed 
sixteen  miles  east;  but  others  said  it  was  in  an 
old  building  about  as  far  north  from  Santa  Fe. 
The  honor  certainly  belonged  to  one  or  the  other 
of  these  two  places. 

The  Pueblo  Indians  raised  stock  and  grain  on 
a  small  scale;  lived  in  villages.  Generally  they 
had  one  large  house  of  adobe  in  the  center,  and 
over  one  hundred  feet  square ;  six  or  seven  stories 
high,  each  story  not  more  than  eight  feet.  Each 
story  was  drawn  in  all  around,  say  eight  feet,  ter- 
racing the  building  to  the  top.  Small  square 
windows  were  in  each  story,  without  glass  or 
shutters,  and  no  door — after  the  first  story,  a 
ladder  on  the  inside^  and  a  square  hole  in  the 


190  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

corner  with  a  lid  to  cover  it,  and  this  repeated  to 
the  top  story.  I  visited  one,  and  made  signs  as 
well  as  I  could  to  be  shown  the  inside.  A  young 
man  took  me  up  the  ladder,  first  on  the  outside  of 
the  lower  part,  and  then  inside  up  to  the  fourth 
story,  and  showed  me  that  there  were  no  more 
ladders.  In  the  third  story  there  was  a  young 
squaw  sitting  beside  a  flat  rock,  on  which,  with 
another  stone,  she  was  rubbing  corn  to  make  meal. 
This  was  the  most  simply  constructed  mill  I  ever 
saw.  The  dusky  miller  seemed  to  think  she  was 
competent  for  the  task,  and  offered  no  apology, 
either  for  the  mill  or  her  garb,  although  she  was 
not  more  than  half  covered  with  clothing.  She 
smiled  pleasantly,  and  kept  at  her  work. 

This  house  was  purely  Pueblan;  and  was 
originally  designed  for  a  fort  or  refuge  in  time  of 
war.  My  conclusion  was,  they  needed  Yankee 
civilization  as  well  as  the  gospel. 

I  was  entertained  over  Sunday,  and  preached 
for  the  only  Protestant  minister  in  all  New  Mex- 
ico, to  about  forty  hearers.  The  next  day  they 
were  to  commence  a  new  adobe  roof  on  the  house. 
The  contractor  undertook  to  put  a  self-supporting 
roof,  and  take  out  the  posts  that  held  the  old  one. 
He  got  it  completed,  and  they  held  a  church  meet- 
ing Saturday  evening,  and  announced  Sunday 
services;  but  in  the  morning  the  roof  had  fallen 
in.  It  was  in  the  night,  and  no  one  was  hurt; 
but  the  people  were  discouraged,  and  shortly  after, 
the  preacher  left  for  the  East.  I  made  my  way 
toward  Taos.  There  were  but  few  Americans  ; 


MORE  ITINERATING.  191 

traveled  one  whole  day  without  seeing  a  man  that 
I-  could  talk  with.  It  was  in  time  of  Lent,  and  in 
almost  every  village  the  people  were  doing  pen- 
ance. Some  carried  a  joist  sixteen  feet  long,  two 
inches  thick,  and  twelve  broad,  with  a  piece  of 
scantling  nailed  across,  the  hind  end  dragging  on 
the  ground.  They  were  all  sizes,  down  to  those 
small  enough  for  children — eight  or  ten  years 
old — to  carry.  At  one  country  church  I  saw  a 
dozen  or  more  boys  crossing  a  field,  quite  a  num- 
ber of  women  in  company.  They  were  heavy 
laden,  and  one  boy  fell  under  the  weight  of  his 
cross.  A  woman  ran  and  helped  him  up,  and  he 
staggered  on  to  the  church,  where  they  all  threw 
down  their  heavy  crosses  and  went  in.  It  was  a 
strange  sight,  and  I  was  never  more  astonished 
than  to  find  that  we  had  people  in  the  United 
States  who  were  so  low  and  heathenish.  I  was 
more  than  two  days  among  the  cross-bearers. 

Coming  near  a  church,  I  saw  three  men  stand- 
ing in  the  road.  One  had  a  large  cross  on  his 
shoulder,  and  was  naked,  except  a  rag  around  his 
hips  and  a  green  veil  over  his  face.  As  he  walked 
with  his  heavy  cross,  he  lashed  his  naked  back 
with  a  long-tailed  cactus.  The  other  two  men 
had  each  a  little  book,  and  one  would  suppose  that 
it  might  have  been  a  ten-cent  revival  hymn-book. 
At  any  rate,  it  looked  as  though  they  were  singing 
some  kind  of  a  dirge  for  the  poor  fellow  carrying 
the  cross.  I  rode  along-side  of  them,  saw  blood 
on  his  back,  and  running  down  on  the  cloth  that 
was  around  his  hips.  I  wondered  if  this  was  in 


192  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

place  of  a  revival,  as  it  was  taking  up  the  cross 
and  giving  blood  for  their  sins,  and  his  two  breth- 
ren singing  a  penitential  song.  I  passed  on  to 
the  church.  There  must  have  been  a  hundred 
crosses  laid  up  against  the  house,  and  as  many 
people  as  there  were  crosses.  When  the  three 
whom  I  had  left  came  in  sight,  these  began  to 
shout.  One  man  had  a  large  horse-fiddle.  He 
ran  up  on  the  church  by  means  of  a  ladder,  and 
began  to  tune  his  fiddle.  My  horse  was  so  badly 
scared,  and  jumped  so  much  farther  than  I  thought 
he  could,  that  he  came  well-nigh  landing  me  in 
the  cliurch-yard.  But  I  gathered  as  he  ran,  and 
went  on.  It  was  the  first  horse-fiddle  I  had  heard 
for  forty  years,  and  I  trust  will  be  the  last. 

Next  came  preparations  for  sleeping,  which 
were  in  the  same  room.  Their  cochones  were 
piled  around  the  wall,  and  were  made  r^ady  on 
the  floor,  which  was  the  ground,  covered  with 
blankets  in  place  of  carpet.  The  cochone  is  what 
we  call  a  mattress.  It  is  a  foot  through,  of  pure 
wool,  and  well  stitched.  Although  it  was  on  the 
floor,  it  was  a  grand  relish  to  a  weary  traveler,  and 
I  slept  well  with  an  old  man  whose  looks  in- 
dicated a  hundred  years.  I  thought  of  what  some 
had  said  of  a  country  where  the  people  never  died, 
just  dried  up  and  blew  away.  I  saw  several  that 
looked  as  if  they  would  never  get  away  unless 
they  were  blown  away.  I  never  slept  with  a  man 
that  seemed  so  near  eternity  as  this  man.  There 
were  three  other  beds  in  the  same  room.  I  awoke 
early,  and  found  my  bedfellow  was  alive.  After 


MORE  ITINERATING.  193 

that  the  first  sensation  was  brought  about  by  rub- 
bing my  eyes  with  the  same  fingers  that  had  been 
used  at  supper  to  dip  the  bread  in  the  chilicolorow, 
which  was  red  pepper  boiled  with  a  piece  of  meat. 
It  seemed  that  sparks  were  coming  out  of  them 
thick.  I  thought  it  a  good  joke  on  me  for  not 
washing  my  hands.  I  called  for  a  fire  to  be  made, 
and  the  man  told  his  wife  to  make  it,  which  she 
did  at  once. 

We  had  much  the  same  for  breakfast  as  for 
supper;  and  I  rode  twenty  miles  to  Red  River, 
where  I  found  an  American.  He  had  boiled  pork 
and  potatoes;  and  if  he  did  have  a  Mexican  wife, 
I  called  it  a  square  meal.  I  overtook  an  old 
Mexican  with  a  blanket  tied  around  his  neck  and 
his  bosom  full  of  lambs,  illustrating  how  lambs 
were  carried  in  patriarchal  times. 

The  Mexicans  were  kind,  and  in  the  out-set- 
tlements— as  a  rule — made  no  charge.  They  ex- 
pected something,  however.  A  few  were  half- 
educated  or  half-Americanized,  and  they  would 
charge  from  three  to  four  dollars  a  night.  It 
made  me  think  that  half  an  education  was  worse 
than  none.  I  called  on  one  family,  and  they 
seemed  to  take  great  pains,  and  soon  had  supper. 
It  consisted  of  good  coffee,  bread,  a  little  tolay, 
which  was  parched  corn  ground  up  and  wet,  and 
chilicolorow.  The  provisions  were  set  on  a  stool 
in  the  center  of  the  room.  There  were  no  chairs, 
as  they  sit  down  flat  when  they  eat.  I  looked 
around,  and  the  man  noticed  it,  and  folded  up  a 
blanket  for  me  to  sit  on.  I  sopped  the  bread  in  the 

17 


194  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

chilicolorow,  and  it  was  very  hot.  The  coffee  was 
good.  I  had  to  use  my  fingers,  as  there  was 
neither  knife,  spoon,  fork,  nor  plate.  Being  hun- 
gry, I  took  to  the  bread  and  soup,  not  being  aware 
of  the  meat  at  the  bottom  of  the  dish.  When  I 
quit  the  woman  came  and  put  her  fingers  into  the 
soup  and  took  up  the  meat,  and  offered  it  to  me. 
I  thanked  her.  I  might  have  taken  it,  but  she 
stood  up  above  me,  and  it  looked  comical  that  I 
should  take  it  from  between  her  fingers  with 
mine.  But  fingers  were  made  before  forks. 

I  inquired  of  the  man  if  those  Penitentes  were 
better  than  the  rest  of  the  nation;  and  found  that 
they  were  the  worst  cut- throats  among  them. 
Their  priests  told  them  that  they  need  not  punish 
themselves  if  they  would  behave.  Not  a  year 
passed  but  one  or  more  killed  himself.  Serious 
injury  was  a  common  thing.  The  severest  punish- 
ment was  the  most  applauded,  being  considered 
the  most  effectual.  This  heathen  practice  comes 
from  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  as  penance  is 
one  of  their  seven  sacraments.  Of  course  it  is 
practiced  among  them  to  this  day,  but  not  so 
publicly. 

I  learned  this  lesson,  that  the  Roman  Catholics 
were  reformed  more  by  Protestants  than  by  any 
other  means,  in  their  schools  and  all  other  features 
of  civilization.  As  a  proof:  There  has  been  more 
improvement  in  the  last  twenty  years  in  New 
Mexico  among  the  Romanists  than  for  three  hun- 
dred years  previous,  when  Catholicism  had  it  all 
its  own  way.  Hence  St.  Paul's  advice  to  provoke 


MORE  ITINERATING.  195 

each  other  to  love  and  good  works.  By  the  grace 
of  God  we  are  doing  it.  From  all  I  could 
learn,  New  Mexico  was  completely  priest-ridden; 
a  wedding  or  a  funeral  was  as  bad  as  a  fire. 

I  made  my  way  back  to  Colorado.  My  pony 
gave  out,  and  I  had  to  swap  for  a  fresh  one,  and 
had  to  pay  as  boot  half  the  worth  of  either  of 
them.  When  I  counted  up,  I  was  out  about  one 
hundred  dollars  on  the  trip. 


196  SNOW-SHOK  ITINERANT. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

SOUTH  PARK  DISTRICT. 

TTTHIS  summer,  1865,  the  conference  was  held 
4-  at  Denver  by  Bishop  Kingsley.  The  follow- 
ing brethren  were  in  attendance:  O.  A.  Willard, 
presiding  elder  of  the  Denver  District;  J.  L,.  Dyer, 
South  Park  District;  George  Richardson,  O.  P. 
McMains,  B.  T.  Vincent,  Wm.  W.  Baldwin,  C.  H. 
Kirkbride,  and  Chas.  King,  besides  John  Gilland, 
supply  in  Lake  County,  and  Wm.  Antis,  in  the 
Denver  District — ten,  all  told.  We  had  a  pleasant 
meeting.  Near  the  close  of  the  conference  Rev. 
George  Murray  appeared  and  was  admitted.  At 
the  close  of  the  conference  we  made  known  to 
Bishop  Kingsley  the  condition  of  New  Mexico, 
and  urged  him  to  secure  a  suitable  man,  one  who 
could  endure  hardships,  and  who  had  other  quali- 
fications as  a  missionary,  especially  among  the 
Mexicans,  as  there  were  comparatively  few  Ameri- 
cans. He  listened  with  attention,  and  promised  to 
consider  the  matter  and  speak  to  the  bishops.  But 
a  man  who  could  preach  or  teach  the  Spanish,  and 
whom  they  believed  to  be  competent  and  trust- 
worthy, could  not  be  found. 

The  writer  took  the  whole  conference,  with 
the  bishop,  to  a  photographic  artist  and  had  'their 
likenesses  taken,  at  a  cost  of  twenty-five  dollars. 
He  thinks  more  of  the  picture  now  than  he  ever 


SOUTH  PARK  DISTRICT.  197 

thought  he  would ;  and  is  sorry  that  Brother 
George  Murray  was  not  there  in  time  to  be  photo- 
graphed with  the  rest,  as  we  were  so  long  time 
co-workers.  He  took  charge  of  Colorado  City, 
Canon  City,  and  Pueblo,  with  Florence,  Beaver 
Creek,  and  Fountain  City  in  his  circuit.  The  dis- 
tricts remained  as  before,  and  no  change  was 
made  in  the  presiding  eldership.  Empire  was 
chosen  for  the  seat  of  the  next  conference. 

This  year  I  kept  the  same  head-quarters,  and 
preached  in  the  mining  camps  whenever  I  could 
spare  time  from  the  district.  I  also  visited  Sum- 
mit County,  as  we  had  no  single  man,  or  man  of 
a  family,  suitable  to  take  the  work.  It  was  hard 
times,  as  the  grasshoppers  ate  up  everything  in  the 
shape  of  garden  stuff  or  crops;  and  it  was  about 
as  much  as  any  of  us  could  do  to  make  a  living. 
Many  of  the  people  were  so  poor  that  the  preacher 
ought  to  have  had  something  to  give  them.  It 
was  not  the  custom  to  pass  the  hat  every  time  we 
came  together.  After  service  I  met  a  man  who 
asked  me  about  the  congregation,  and  said  that 
if  he  had  had  a  piece  of  money  to  throw  in  he 
would  have  been  there.  When  I  told  him  that 
there  was  no  collection  taken,  he  said  that  I  was 
behind  the  times  ;  for  at  Central  they  took  the  col- 
lection every  time  in  advance. 

This  was  a  year  of  affliction  to  me,  as  I  had 
two  sons  in  the  army.  The  youngest  was  back, 
mimis  one  foot;  and  Joshua,  my  oldest  son,  the 
last  heard  of  him  was  that  he  was  left  at  Wil- 
mington. He  had  been  sent,  with  others,  from 


198  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

Andersonville  Prison  in  a  starving  condition,  and 
could  go  no  farther.  We  could  hear  nothing  from 
him,  and  the  supposition  with  me  was  that  he  was 
dead.  All  we  knew  was  that  he  was  sick  and  al- 
most starved.  He  was  a  young  man  with  good 
habits,  the  oldest  of  my  family,  and  I  had  hoped 
that  he  would  be  my  comfort  in  coming  years,  if 
God  in  his  mercy  saw  fit  to  save  my  unprofitable 
life.  I  was  far  separated  from  my  children,  and 
often  felt  as  though  it  would  be  a  great  joy  to 
have  some  of  them  where  I  could  see  them,  and 
take  a  rest  and  visit  them.  Nothing  bu't  a  sense 
of  duty  to  God  and  the  cause  could  have  kept  me 
in  Colorado. 

In  December,  1865,  I  made  my  arrangements, 
and  started  for  the  States,  to  try  to  settle  the  facts 
relative  to  my  son.  I  came  to  Denver.  The  In- 
dians were  hostile  on  the  Plains.  No  company 
with  a  less  number  than  forty  armed  men  was 
allowed  to  start.  I  bought  a  rifle  and  a  navy- 
revolver,  some  blankets  for  bedding,  and  got  a 
passage  with  a  mule-train  to  Omaha.  The  mules 
proved  to  be  weak  and  worked  down,  and  of  course 
made  slow  time.  I  made  myself  useful  in  taking 
care  of  the  sick  till  we  reached  Fort  Kearney. 
There  we  struck  a  man  with  a  light  carriage.  I 
made  a  bargain,  and  went  with  him  to  Ne- 
braska City. 

In  due  time  we  arrived.  My  baggage  was  laid 
out  of  the  wagon,  and  as  I  looked  for  help  to  get 
it  to  the  hotel,  only  a  minute,  my  pistol  was  gone. 
It  was  under  a  blanket,  and  some  thief  took  it.  I 


SOUTH  PARK  DISTRICT.  199 

made  some  inquiries,  but  got  no  clue  to  anything. 
I  was  very  unwell,  as  I  had  a  desperate  cold,  and 
was  laid  up  for  a  day.  Then  I  made  my  way  to 
near  Fall  City,  where  my  brother  Thomas  and 
family,  with  father  and  mother,  had  stopped  on 
their  way  to  Missouri.  There  I  rested.  Thence 
I  went  to  St.  Joseph,  where  I  took  the  cars  for 
Quincy,  Illinois,  and  went  as  far  north  as  Leonora, 
Minnesota,  to  see  C.  C.  Streetor,  my  son-in-law. 
No  tidings  had  been  heard  of  my  son's  wherea- 
bouts. But  in  a  few  days  a  paper  came  from  some 
friend  who  had  taken  the  names  of  all  the  soldiers 
that  had  shipped  on  the  steamship  General  Lyon, 
from  Wilmington,  North  Carolina,  which  was 
blown  up  off  Cape  Hatteras,  and  all  the  crew  and 
passengers  lost.  His  name  and  regiment,  ist 
Minnesota,  were  in  the  list.  We  may  conjecture, 
but  all  in  vain — it  never  will  be  known — -just  what 
was  the  cause.  Some  murderer  may  have  put  an 
explosive  in  the  coal  that  caused  the  disaster.  But 
we  shall  have  to  wait  till  God  calls  on  the  great 
deep  to  give  up  its  dead;  then  all  secrets  shall  be 
made  known.  This  affliction  was  a  severe  stroke 
on  us  all,  but  we  could  only  say:  "Our  Heavenly 
Father,  who  knows  best,  has  suffered  it  to  be." 

As  I  had  never  been  east  of  Ohio,  I  concluded 
to  take  the  cars  for  Boston  and  New  York.  After 
I  had  been  in  the  latter  place,  and  looked  over 
many  of  the  sights,  I  went  to  the  depot  for  Boston. 
They  were  not  ready  to  give  tickets,  and  as  I 
stepped  out,  a  man — I  suppose  that  he  saw  I  was 
somewhat  green — asked  me  where  I  was  bound  for. 


2oo  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

I  told  him.  He  said  he  lived  there,  and  was  going 
on  the  train,  and  that  he  was  waiting  for  some  silk 
goods.  Just  then  a  man  ran  up,  and  they  talked 
a  little.  He  went  to  settle  the  drayage,  and  offered 
a  draft.  Of  course  they  could  not  make  change. 
"Could  you  let  me  have  five  dollars  till  we  can  get 
into  the  office?"  I  took  out  my  pocket-book,  and 
he  grabbed  it,  and  slipped  around  the  corner,  and 
that  was  the  last  of  him.  Just  then  I  realized 
that  I  was  in  New  York  City,  and  that  he  had 
played  the  confidence  game  on  me.  There  were 
just  two  hundred  and  sixty  dollars  gone.,  I  re- 
ported, and  hunted  a  policeman,  but  it  was  dark. 
We  heard  nothing  more  of  him. 

Next  day  I  went  to  the  bank,  and  got  a  small 
draft  cashed ;  and  left  with  the  belief  that  there 
were  more  thieves  in  New  York  City  than  in  any 
other  place  in  the  country.  It  waked  me  up  when 
it  was  too  late.  I  had  been  amused  at  the  thought 
that  Peter  Cartwright,  D.  D.,  had  been  fooled  out 
of  some  money  in  the  same  way ;  but  I  felt  more 
serious  on  this  occasion. 

I  took  in  Baltimore,  Washington,  and  Phila- 
delphia; visited  Bishop  Simpson,  and  had  my  fill 
of  the  East  in  the  short  time  that  I  spent  there; 
so  that  from  that  time  on  I  never  wanted  to  go 
East,  either  to  make  a  visit  or  acquire  a  home.  I 
returned  by  cars  through  Pittsburg,  and,  with  but 
little  visiting,  came  to  Atchison,  where  I  took  the 
stage  for  Denver.  My  ticket  cost  one  hundred 
and  twenty-five  dollars,  and  meals  one  dollar  and 
fifty  cents  each.  This  was  the  latter  part  of 


SOUTH  PARK  DISTRICT.  201 

April,  1866.  I  visited  in  Illinois,  Iowa,  Ohio,  and 
Minnesota.  This  was  the  only  vacation  I  ever 
took;  and  have  been  almost  all  the  time  since  in 
Colorado  and  New  Mexico. 

I  was  soon  on  my  work.  The  same  day  that 
I  reached  Denver,  Brother  Willard  left  for  Omaha. 
I  tried  to  preach  at  all  my  regular  appointments 
and  at  many  of  the  mining-camps.  There  was  a 
great  portion  of  my  district  among  mining-camps 
and  new  settlements.  My  lot  was  cast  in  a  coun- 
try where  the  people,  most  of  them,  had  come  to 
make  a  raise  financially,  and  then  leave.  On  this 
account  it  was  almost  impossible  to  keep  up  or- 
ganized societies.  Most  of  the  work  in  the  mines 
was  done  in  the  summer,  and  in  the  fall  most  of 
the  miners  would  scatter.  I  resolved  that  they 
should  have  a  full  gospel,  and  gave  them  the 
words  of  Christ  as  to  the  condition  of  unforgiven 
sinners  and  those  who  were  determined  to  enjoy 
the  sinful  pleasures  of  this  world. 

After  faithfully  preaching  the  truth,  I  was  told 
by  many  that  I  was  behind  the  times;  that  Meth- 
odist preachers  had  quit  saying  anything  about 
eternal  punishment  and  the  horrors  of  hell.  I 
thought  that  it  was  at  least  partly  a  slander,  and  that 
I  would  tell  them  we  had  the  same  doctrines  that 
we  had  fifty  years  ago ;  that  the  fault  was  in  them ; 
that  when  they  were  young  they  read  the  Gospel, 
and  it  was  preached  faithfully ;  that  they  believed 
its  truths  and  trembled ;  but  that  they  have  re- 
sisted its  force  and  the  Spirit's  strivings  till  they 
were  hardened  and  brought  to  think  the  preachers 


202  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

have  changed,  when  the  change  was  in  their  own 
hardened  hearts. 

But,  after  all  that  can  be  said,  is  not  the  asser- 
tion too  true  of  many  Methodist  preachers?  They 
smooth  the  word  for  fear  of  mortal  man.  And 
in  the  revivals,  instead  of  drawing  the  line  like  the 
old  prophet,  and  calling  penitent  sinners  to  the 
altar  for  prayers,  they  say:  "Just  rise  up  where 
you  are."  Where  the  terrors  of  the  Book  are 
kept  out  of  sight,  convictions  are  slight  and  con- 
versions not  generally  clear.  In  the  Testament, 
Christ  describes  the  torments  of  hell  and  the 
glories  of  heaven  and  eternal  happiness.  If  there 
is  anything  in  the  call  to  the  ministry,  it  means 
both;  for  the  Lord  said:  "Go  ye  into  all  the 
world,  and  preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature ; 
he  that  believeth  and  is  baptized,  shall  be  saved, 
and  he  that  believeth  not  shall  be  damned."  This 
is  the  call,  and  any  preacher  who  leaves  out  half 
is  unfaithful  to  it;  and  if  he  does  not  believe  fully 
what  Christ  said,  he  himself  is  an  apostate. 

In  the  summer  of  1866  Bishop  Baker  held  our 
conference  at  Empire.  He  was  rather  feeble  in 
health,  and  as  he  was  in  a  high  altitude  when  he 
reached  the  seat  of  conference,  he  was  paralyzed 
so  that  his  speech  was  much  impaired.  He  was 
not  able  to  preach.  Brother  Charles  King,  preacher 
in  charge,  treated  him  with  the  greatest  care,  and 
the  cabinet  met  in  his  room  at  the  parsonage.  I 
was  the  only  presiding  elder,  and  acted  as  chair- 
man for  him,  and  went  through  the  business. 
Brother  Baldwin  went  with  others  to  his  room  to 


SOUTH  PARK  DISTRICT.  203 

be  ordained  elder,  and,  to  relieve  the  bishop,  I 
went  through  the  ritual  service  as  far  as  to  the 
laying  on  of  hands.  At  the  close  of  the  session 
in  the  school-house,  I  read  the  appointments,  and 
we  all  left  refreshed  for  our  work.  Brother  King 
conveyed  the  bishop  to  Denver,  where  he  stayed 
with  Mr.  Burton,  an  old  acquaintance,  till  he  was 
able  to  take  the  stage  across  the  Plains.  I  think 
he  never  entirely  recovered  his  former  strength. 
We  love  to  remember  him,  for  he  was  a  man  of 
sterling  qualities,  and  in  his  case  we  can  say: 
"Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord." 

This  year  just  closing  was  a  period  of  hard 
times.  For  several  seasons  the  grasshoppers  made 
almost  a  famine  among  the  farmers,  and  the  mines 
were  not  so  productive  as  to  make  much  excite- 
ment. Such  a  state  of  things  made  it  hard  on  the 
people  as  well  as  on  the  preachers.  None  but 
those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  rise  and  fall  of 
mining-camps  can  give  any  idea  of  this  country 
in  its  early  days.  This  year  Wm.  M.  Smith  was 
appointed  presiding  elder  on  the  Denver  District, 
which  embraced  the  best  appointments;  while 
South  Park  District,  to  which  I  was  appointed, 
took  the  south  and  south-western  parts  of  the 
State,  the  most  thinly  settled.  It  embraced  Sum- 
mit County,  and  ran  south  and  west  to  the  line 
of  New  Mexico.  In  all  this  region  there  were  to 
be  only  four  preachers,  viz. :  Colorado  City  and 
Canon  City,  George  Murray;  Dayton,  supplied  by 
Brother  John  Gilland ;  Pueblo,  C.  H.  Kirkbride; 
Buckskin  and  Summit,  to  be  supplied. 


204  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

We  arranged  to  hold  quarterly  meetings  every 
round  at  both  places  on  Brother  Murray's  work, 
as  the  two  places  were  forty-five  miles  apart. 
Formerly  we  had  had  about  forty  members  on  the 
Buckskin  charge;  but  now  all  except  about  eight 
had  left,  and  they  were  poor  and  discouraged. 
After  consulting  the  brethren,  it  seemed  best  that 
I  should  make  my  home  at  Buckskin,  and  s'erve 
that  charge  all  the  time  that  I  had  to  spare  from 
the  rest  of  the  district.  This  I  did,  to  the  best  of 
my  ability.  On  this  part  of  my  work,  I  preached 
four  times  a  week. 

In  traveling  over  the  district,  I  visited  many 
places  not  included  in  any  of  the  charges,  and 
preached  to  the  people.  After  meeting  they  would 
say,  "  This  is  the  first  preaching  we  have  heard  in 
this  country;"  and  some  said,  ('It  is  the  first  for 
several  years."  This  year  I  visited  Fort  Garland, 
and  found  one  company  of  soldiers,  about  one 
hundred  souls,  and  no  chaplain.  I  asked  the 
captain  if  I  might  preach.  He  replied  that  a 
chaplain  had  been  there  with  Colonel  Chivington, 
and  only  succeeded  in  inducing  five  to  hear  him. 
Not  discouraged,  I  said:  "Well,  I  am  a  bit  of  a 
Methodist  preacher,  and  if  you  will  help  me,  I  be- 
lieve we  can  fill  your  room."  He  said  he  would 
use  his  influence,  and  the  preacher  went  around 
and  invited  the  people.  At  the  time  appointed, 
nearly  one  hundred  hearers  were  present,  and  only 
one  left  before  dismission.  At  the  close  the 
captain  came  to  me  and  said  he  would  not  have 
believed,  had  he  not  seen  it,  that  the  boys  could 


SOUTH  PARK  DISTRICT.  205 

have  been  kept  still  that  long  to  hear  preaching, 
and  that  he  was  glad  he  had  the  service. 

About  four  miles  out  from  there  lived  Mr. 
Thomas  Tobin.  He  was  a  Missourian,  and  be- 
longed to  no  Church.  His  wife  was  a  Mexican 
and  a  Roman  Catholic.  I  obtained  the  privilege 
of  preaching  at  his  house,  and  had  about  thirty — 
three-fourths  half-breeds  and  Mexicans.  I  had 
found  that  the  Spanish  always  had  the  Americans 
to  translate  the  discourse  to  them.  So  I  took  the 
text,  "  Repent  ye,  therefore,  and  be  converted," 
and  contrasted  our  way  with  the  Catholic's  way ; 
we  confessing  to  Christ,  and  he  forgiving  us  and 
letting  us  know  the  blessed  fact  for  ourselves  and 
not  another. 

I  left  an  appointment  to  come  again,  but  be- 
fore I  got-  around,  Father  Machbeuf,  now  bishop, 
who  was  the  only  colleague  I  had  in  that  part  of 
the  district,  met  Mr.  Tobin,  and  made  him  prom- 
ise not  to  let  me  preach  at  his  house  any  more. 
Tobin  thought  that  this  was  hardly  fair,  for  though 
his  folks  belonged  to  them,  he  liked  our  way  the 
best.  The  priest  taught  that  none  but  Catholic 
clergy  could  solemnize  marriage,  or  do  any- 
thing right. 

At  Saguache  I  found  a  small  settlement,  and 
held  a  two  days'  meeting  at  the  house  of  Mr. 
Ashley,  a  family  from  Kentucky.  They  were  Bap- 
tists, and  good  people,  but  had  hardly  heard  of  a 
Protestant  preacher  being  in  the  country.  They 
kept  me,  and  it  seemed  like  home  in  the  wilder- 
ness. On  Sunday  the  power  of  God  came  down, 


2o6  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

and  nearly  all  were  in  tears.  The  lady  of  the 
house  broke  out  with  a  grand  shout,  the  first  ever 
raised  in  the  San  Luis  Valley.  I  called  for  seek- 
ers ;  three  came,  and  two,  I  believe,  were  converted. 
We  had  there  a  foreigner,  I  think  of  Jewish 
descent.  He  sat  near  the  door,  and  looked  first 
at  the  door,  then  at  me,  and  then  at  the  scene 
among  the  seekers.  A  man  by  the  name  of  Ful- 
lerton,  and  a  Mr.  Woodson,  who  had  Mexican 
wines,  were  present.  The  former  was  reclaimed, 
and  I  hear  that  he  is  preaching.  I  could  but 
thank  God  and  take  courage.  It  was  about 
twenty-five  miles  to  any  other  settlement.  The 
men  mentioned  above  lived  neighbors,  were  farm- 
ers, and  had  wheat  and  oats.  A  severe  hail-storm 
beat  their  crops  into  the  ground.  Indians  were 
more  numerous  than  white  men.  Old  Chief  San 
Juan  came  along,  and  expressed  great  sorrow  at 
their  loss.  For  him  it  meant,  no  biscuits  this 
year.  He  said:  " There  is  some  good  in  it,  but 
we  can  't  see  it.  You  must  not  complain,  for  the 
Great  Spirit  has  permitted  it.  If  you  complain 
he  might  send  the  thunder  and  lightning,  and 
that  would  kill  men,  even  as  the  hail  had  de- 
stroyed their  crops."  The  old  man  had  never  heard 
a  gospel  sermon  or  seen  a  Bible,  and  believed 
there  was  a  happy  hunting-ground  beyond  this 
life.  In  order  that  his  son,  who  had  been  killed, 
might  have  plenty  of  horses  in  the  happy  hunting- 
ground,  he  sent  his  braves,  who  shot  about  one 
laundred  and  twenty-five  head  out  of  the  herd. 
Our  Savior  said:  "I  will  send  the  Spirit,  and  he 


SOUTH  PARK  DISTRICT.  207 

shall  enlighten  every  man   that  cometh  into  the 
world."     The  old  chief  must  have  got  his  share. 

From  here  we  made  our  way  to  Poncha  Pass, 
the  nearest  settlement ;  thence  to  California  Gulch, 
where  Leadville  now  stands;  and  so  across  the 
Mosquito  Pass  to  Buckskin.  I  visited  the  South 
Arkansas  River,  where  two  families  had  moved — 
six  men,  two  women,  and  a  little  girl.  They 
were  living  in  tents.  The  women  said  they  must 
have  preaching  that  night.  Meantime  I  con- 
cluded to  go  up  on  the  mountains,  where  the  iron 
mines  are.  The  river  was  low,  and  I  forded  it. 
But  the  day  was  warm,  and  the  snow  thawed  so 
that,  when  I  got  back  in  the  afternoon,  the  river 
was  out  of  its  banks.  When  I  got  into  the  main 
stream,  it  was  very  rapid,  and  my  Mexican  horse 
would  not  go  in  more  than  knee-deep.  It  was 
near  one  hundred  yards  across.  I  called  for  help, 
and  the  men  came  down  and  asked  what  they 
could  do.  I  had  seen  a  new  clothes-line  at  the 
camp.  They  brought  it,  and  tied  a  stone  to  one 
end,  and  threw  it  to  me.  I  tied  it  to  the  bridle ; 
they  pulled,  and  I  whipped.  The  mustang  had 
not  got  more  than  the  length  of  himself,  till  the 
rushing  water  knocked  his  feet  out  from  under  him. 
As  he  rolled  over,  I  slipped  off,  and  shoved  him  as 
far  as  I  could.  They  pulled,  and  brought  him 
angling  across  against  a  high  bank.  I  thought  it 
was  a  good  thing  to  know  how  to  swim.  They  had 
only  brought  him  to  the  bank,  when  I  swam  in,  and 
ungirded  the  saddle.  They  had  a  big  rope,  and 
threw  it  over  his  head ;  then  helped  me  up,  and  we 


2o8  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

all  took  hold,  and  pulled  the  pony  out.  He  went 
to  eating  grass  as  though  his  experience  were  an 
every-day  occurrence.  I  got  dry  clothes  from  my 
saddle-bags,  and  set  about  drying  up. 

After  supper,  while  I  was  sitting  by  the  fire 
barefooted,  some  one  said  it  was  time  for  the 
preaching.  I  rose  up,  and  began  to  sing  one  of 
our  old  hymns.  After  prayer  I  took  a  text,  and 
preached  them  their  first  sermon,  barefooted.  This 
was  about  two  miles  south-west  of  where  Salida 
now  stands.  From  here  there  was  no  house  for 
fifty  miles  east,  on  the  way  to  Canon  City.  South, 
the  first  ranch — Curber's — was  distant  twenty-five 
miles.  West,  so  far  as  I  knew,  there  was  nothing 
to  the  Pacific  Ocean;  north,  up  the  Arkansas 
River,  twelve  miles,  to  Brown's  Creek  settlement; 
fifty-two  miles  to  where  Leadville  now  stands. 
The  country  was  thinly  settled,  and  I  preached 
wherever  a  few  could  be  got  together.  It  was  not 
known  then  that  I* had  on  my  district  what  was 
destined  to*  be  the  richest  mining-camp  in  the 
United  States,  if  not  in  the  world. 

Nothing  of  much  importance  was  done  till  fall. 
We  held  a  camp-meeting  near  where  the  town  of 
Alma  now  stands.  It  was  the  day  of  small  things, 
although,  by  altitude,  it  was  the  highest  camp- 
meeting  ever  held.  There  were  three  tents  and  a 
wagon  or  two.  We  had  only  about  eight  members. 
Brother  Cummings,  Brother  Hubbart  and  wife, 
were  there,  with  others;  Brother  Bates  and  wife, 
Baptists,  and  an  old  Presbyterian  brother,  all  good 
and  true.  Brother  John  Gilland,  of  Dayton 


SOUTH  PARK  DISTRICT.  209 

charge,  Twin  Lakes,  was  with  us.  We  had  a  good 
time  in  our  social  exercises,  and  enjoyed  the  op- 
portunity of  being  together.  Some  came  twelve 
miles.  Few  know  how  we  appreciated  those  sea- 
sons, after  our  long  exile  among  people  taken  up 
with  sin  of  every  grade,  none  even  to  sympathize 
with  us  and  cheer  us  on  our  way.  I  have  heard 
since  that  Brother  Hubbart's  oldest  daughter,  now 
the  wife  of  Brother  A.  J.  Smith,  of  our  conference, 
received  her  first  impressions  at  this  time;  but 
there  were  no  conversions  that  I  know  of.  Brother 
Cummings  and  Brother  Hubbart,  I  trust,  are  in 
that  better  country,  where  congregations  are  large, 
and  never  break  up.  I  love  to  think  of  the  few 
with  whom  I  shared  privations,  dangers,  and  re- 
ligious joys  in  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

It  was  my  practice  to  go  around  the  camps 
and  invite  all  to  come  and  hear  the  word.  I 
would  say  to  the  boys  at  cards:  " Can't  yon  get 
through  with  your  game  in  twenty  minutes,  stack 
up  your  chips,  and  give  us  a  hearing?"  Fre- 
quently they  would  all  come;  and  they  always 
conducted  themselves  with  propriety.  Indeed,  I 
never  found  it  otherwise  in  these  mountains. 

I  tried  to  preach  as  often  as  four  times  a  week 
during  this  conference  year,  and,  where  we  could, 
three  times  on  Sunday.  About  the  first  of 
November,  in  the  morning,  I  was  at  Buckskin;  at 
Montgomery  2.30  P.  M.,  and  at  Breckenridge  in 
the  evening.  This  was  twenty  miles,  and  across 
the  main  range.  Just  as  I  got  on  top  of  the 
Hoosier  Pass  it  began  to  snow,  and  snowed  so 

18 


210  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

severely  that,  although  I  was  on  time,  there  was 
no  service  at  night.  Next  morning  it  had  not 
abated,  and,  for  fear  of  being  blocked  in,  I  started 
back  with  a  little  lawyer  in  company. 

At  Hoosier  Gulch  we  rode  into  an  empty  cabin, 
and  started  a  fire.  My  partner's  gloves  were  wet, 
and  his  hands  ached  with  cold.  He  made  a  face 
ugly  enough  to  shed  tears.  We  started  on,  and  I 
loaned  him  my  mittens,  his  gloves  being  unwear- 
able,  and  went  bare-handed.  Suffice  it  to  say,  we 
got  down  the  mountain  somehow  to  Montgomery, 
and  stopped  with  my  old  friend  Mr.  Ray.  With 
great  labor  we  reached  Buckskin,  eight  miles,  be- 
fore dinner. 

Leaving  my  lawyer,  I  rode  to  Fair  Play,  as 
there  had  been  a  trail  broken,  sent  my  horse  to 
Bayley's  ranch,  and,  having  made  me  a  pair  of 
snow-shoes,  concluded  to  go  that  way.  I  started 
from  the  south  bank  of  the  Platte,  at  Fair  Play, 
on  my  shoes,  supposing  that  I  could  stand  walking 
as  in  the  past;  but  having  ridden  on  horseback 
all  summer,  I  soon  felt  the  effects  of  the  change. 
At  six,  I  reached  Platte  crossing,  and  expected  to 
find  a  foot-log,  but  it  had  been  washed  away. 
There  were  two  crossings,  ten  rods  apart.  I  started 
down  the  creek.  The  snow  had  covered  every- 
thing; and  as  I  passed  over  some  willows,  I  broke 
one  of  my  shoes ;  but  got  to  the  ford,  and  saw  that 
there  was  no  way. to  cross  but  by  wading.  It  was 
after  dark.  I  sat  down  in  the  snow  and  took  off 
my  boots  and  socks.  The  stream  was  running 
full  knee-deep  of  slush,  and  was  about  sixteen  feet 


SOUTH  PARK  DISTRICT.  211 

wide.  I  waded  across,  wiped  my  feet  as  dry  as  I 
could  with  my  handkerchief,  got  my  boots  on,  and 
made  four  miles  through  the  snow  to  Garro's  Ranch. 
I  was  tired  out,  and  so  hungry  that  I  could  have 
eaten  anything.  My  condition  was  anything  but 
enviable.  But  it  was  go  or  perish.  The  snow 
was  a  little  packed  by  the  wind,  which  was  on  my 
back,  and  helped  me  a  little.  I  could  make  only 
about  one  hundred  feet  before  having  to  rest.  I 
was  warm  except  my  feet.  I  had  one  snow-shoe, 
and  could  scrape  the  snow  off  the  ground  to  make 
a  place  to  stamp  my  feet  so  that  they  should  not 
freeze.  I  got  within  a  mile;  stopped  to  rest.  I 
dug  a  trench  in  the  snow  long  enough  to  lie  in. 
The  wind  blew  the  snow  and  the  scales  I  had 
knocked  off  over  me,  and  it  seemed  like  being 
buried  alive,  the  clods  being  shoveled  in  on  the 
coffin.  I  soon  got  out  of  that  hole,  and  at  last, 
near  eleven  o'clock,  steadied  myself  by  the  door- 
knob with  one  hand,  and  rapped  with  the  other. 
Mr.  Garro  jumped  out  of  bed  with  his  revolver  in 
hand,  ran  up-stairs,  hoisted  the  window,  and  cried 
out:  "  Who's  there?"  The  reply  was:  "It  is  Dyer." 
He  was  astounded,  and  hurried  down-stairs  with- 
out shooting,  brought  me  in,  and  set  me  supper, 
with  hospitality  so  royal  a  king  might  envy  it. 

I  remember  yet  how  thankful  I  was  to  the 
good  Lord  that  I  got  in ;  and  how  good  that  hay 
bed  felt,  and  how  greatly  refreshed  I  was  the  next 
morning.  Nothing  but  the  grace  of  God,  and 
what  little  grit  I  had  in  me,  ever  got  me  through. 
Mr.  Garro  saddled  a  pony,  and  sent  his  boy  part 


212  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

way.  Four  miles  out  the  snow  was  only  six  inches 
deep  ;  and  I  got  to  Mr.  Sam  Hartsell's,  where 
he  now  lives,  about  one  o'clock,  ten  miles  distant. 
He  had  just  killed  an  antelope,  and  we  had  a  good 
dinner.  He  put  up  a  lunch  for  me,  as  I  expected 
to  reach  the  Thirty-nine-mile  House  that  night. 
The  snow  was  not  deep  at  Hartsell's ;  but  when 
I  got  three 'miles  up  in  the  timber  it  was  full  knee- 
deep  again,  and  by  the  time  I  got  within  two 
miles  of  the  house  I  was  well-nigh  given  out.  I 
saw  a  log  and  a  dead  pine-tree  by  it.  The  bark 
was  loose,  and  I  concluded  to  camp.  Soon  had  a 
fire  and  my  lunch ;  rested  and  felt  happy.  I 
scraped  away  the  snow,  put  some  bark  down  to 
make  my  bed,  lay  down,  and  looked  up  at  the 
bright  stars  of  heaven.  They  seemed  to  sparkle  as 
though  they  were  laughing  at  me.  I  kept  up  the 
fire,  rested  and  slept  a  little,  and  was  up  and  off  by 
daylight,  reaching  the  Thirty-nine-mile  House  just 
at  breakfast  time.  The  mail-carrier  from  Canon  City 
was  there.  He  had  come  the  day  before,  and 
thought  the  snow  was  a  sufficient  excuse  to  go  back. 
I  told  him  it  might  do  for  him,  as  he  was  working 
for  Uncle  Sam ;  but  that  I  was  ruled  by  a  higher 
Power.  I  gave  him  three  dollars  to  let  me  ride 
an  extra  horse  he  had  with  him  back  to  Canon,  as 
that  was  the  place  of  our  quarterly  meeting. 
There  I  rested  a  day,  was  well  cared  for  by  the 
brethren,  and,  after  a  good  meeting,  went  home 
with  Uncle  Jesse  Frazier.  O,  what  a  good  place 
to  stop  !  Aunt  Jesse  would  always  make  one  feel 
as  if  he  were  with  his  own  mother. 


SOUTH  PARK  DISTRICT.  213 

From  there  I  went  down  the  Arkansas,  calling 
pastorally  at  many  of  the  houses,  preaching  at 
Beaver  Creek  and  at  Pueblo.  At  the  latter  place  I 
found  Brother  Kirkbride  in  not  so  agreeable  a  situ- 
ation as  I  would  have  liked.  He  had  been  teaching 
school ;  and  the  two  occupations  did  not  work  well 
together,  for  he  had  forgotten  to  announce  the 
quarterly  meeting.  Fortunately  I  was  there  on 
Friday,  and  so  went  around  and  invited  the  peo- 
ple, and  we  had  quite  good  congregations.  I 
took  up  a  collection  of  fifteen  dollars,  and  gave  it 
all  to  Brother  Kirkbride.  This  was  before  the  pre- 
siding elder  had  his  salary  separate  from  the 
preacher  in  charge. 

From  Pueblo  I  went  up  Fountain  Creek  to 
Bannister's  settlement,  and  gathered  up  about 
thirty-five,  and  preached  to  them.  Then  I  went 
on  to  where  Fountain  City  now  stands,  and 
preached  at  Searles's ;  thence  to  Colorado  City, 
where  we  had  quarterly  meeting  with  Brother 
Murray.  Here  they  made  fifteen  dollars  or  more, 
and  I  turned  almost  all  of  it  over  to  Brother  Mur- 
ray, as  I  knew  he  was  in  more  need  than  I  at  that 
time.  Sister  Murray  took  quite  an  interest  in  the 
collection,  and  gave  five  dollars  herself.  When 
we  arranged  it,  she  said  she  would  not  take  so 
much  interest  next  time  if  she  was  to  get  it  back. 
It  was  hard  times  for  money.  Congregations 
were  small,  and  the  preachers  had  as  much  as 
they  could  do  to  come  out  even.  We  had  a  num- 
ber of  preachers  come  and  go  back  because  of  the 
work  and  pay. 


214  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

I  concluded  to  return  by  way  of  Denver,  and 
took  the  stage  in  the  evening.  I  hoped  to  find 
congenial  company,  since  it  was  an  all-night  ride. 
But  the  passengers  were  two  deeply  colored  dis- 
charged soldiers.  Adapting  myself  to  the  situa- 
tion, I  inquired  where  the  gentlemen  were  from. 
"  Fort  Union,  New  Mexico ;  we  been  soldiers." 
"Did  you  get  your  discharge?"  "Yes,  sar." 
"Where  are  you  bound  for?"  "Denver;  to  see 
our  uncle  and  kinsfolks."  "Your  native  State?" 
"  Kentucky,  sar."  "What  Church  are  you  members 
of?"  One  said  he  was  a  Baptist,  and  the  other  a 
Methodist.  This  was  good  news.  "Now,  can't 
you  sing  some  of  the  old  hymns  that  used  to 
make  us  happy  ?"  One  said  that  if  he  had  a  book 
he  could,  but  he  couldn  't  "'membah."  The  other 
said  he  could  'membah  some,  but  he  could  not 
read.  I  named  several  hyms,  and  finally  one  of 
the  soldiers  struck  up: 

"  How  tedious  and  tasteless  the  hours, 
When  Jesus  no  longer  I  see." 

We  all  sang  with  energy  and  spirit,  hymn 
after  hymn.  Following  a  hymn,  one  of  them  said : 
"  I  'sperienced  religion  twice  under  dat  dah  song." 
We  kept  it  up  for  seven  or  eight  miles.  After  our 
ten-o'clock  supper  I  tried  to  have  more  singing, 
but  we  all  felt  too  drowsy.  We  reached  Denver 
about  sunrise,  entering  on  the  east  side  of  Cherry 
Creek;  but  not  striking  Denver  till  we  got  to 
Larimer  Street — that  was  all  there  was  of  the  now 
great  city. 


SOUTH  PARK  DISTRICT.  215 

After  two  or  three  days,  I  got  to  Buckskin,  a 
trip  of  four  hundred  miles.  I  caught  some  rides 
out  from  Denver,  where  there  was  plenty  of  snow. 
I  had  been  gone  three  Sundays. 

I  spent  the  winter  traveling  on  snow-shoes, 
preaching  on  an  average  four  times  a  week.  I 
had  a  cabin,  which  I  called  home,  at  Mosquito; 
the  post-office  being  called  Sterling.  I  cut  my 
own  wood,  and  had  an  old-fashioned  fire-place  to 
sit  by;  a  few  books  to  read;  a  bedstead  made  of 
poles,  and  a  bed  made  of  the  tops  of  fir-trees,  and 
finished  out  with  a  hay  tick — a  very  comfortable 
outfit.  There  was  one  window,  containing  six 
panes  of  glass,  ten  by  twelve  inches,  affording 
plenty  of  light,  except  on  stormy  days,  when  it 
was  necessary  to  keep  the  door  open,  if  the  wind 
would  allow.  I  could  enjoy  the  hospitality  of 
friends  at  my  various  appointments,  but  when  I 
got  around  I  wanted  some  place  that  I  could  call 
home.  The  above  was  my  home,  or  answered 
that  purpose.  How  glad  I  was  to  get  back,  stand 
my  snow-shoes  up  against  the  house,  strike  up  a 
fire,  sit  down,  and  warm  a  little ;  and  then,  if  there 
was  not  any  bread  to  warm  up,  and  satisfy  my 
hunger,  to  take  flour  and  baking-powder,  and  make 
a  delicious  cake !  I  generally  baked  it  in  a  frying- 
pan  before  the  fire.  By  the  time  it  was  baked, 
the  meat  was  fried,  coffee  boiled,  and  with  a  can 
of  fruit  or  some  dried-apple  sauce,  the  table  was 
set,  and  I  was  ready  to  thank  God  and  eat! 


216  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

AMONG    THE    INDIANS. 

THE  winter  of  1866-67  was  remarkable  for  snow 
and  its  continuance  in  the  spring  until  April. 

Just  six  months  from  the  former  trip,  I  started 
from  Fair  Play  on  my  snow-shoes  again ;  this  time 
for  Brown's  Creek,  in  Lake  County,  by  the  salt- 
works. The  first  house  was  Mr.  Weston's, 
twelve  miles.  His  friends  wished  to  send  them 
their  mail,  with  some  other  little  articles.  He 
could  not  go  on  snow-shoes,  and  so,  with  his 
wife,  he  had  been  there  all  winter  alone.  The 
sun  thawed  the  snow  so  that  it  stuck,  and  made 
heavy  traveling.  I  had  to  wear  a  veil,  to  keep 
from  getting  snow-blind,  the  dazzling  light  being 
so  intense ;  but  I  got  there  to  dinner  all  the  same. 
Mr.  Weston  was  out  splitting  wood  near  the  door, 
and  did  not  see  me  till  I  was  close,  and  spoke.  He 
was  taken  by  surprise ;  but  before  I  was  within  two 
rods  of  him,  he  exclaimed:  "Did  you  bring  me 
any  tobacco?"  I  could  not  tell  him,  but  ga.ve  him 
the  package,  and  sure  enough  they  had -sent  a  plug 
of  the  dirty  stuff.  This  shows  that  tobacco- 
chewers  think  more  of  the  weed  than  of  their 
victuals. 

The  next  day  I  stopped  with  Mr.  Charles  Hall 
at  the  salt-works,  and  preached.  I  found  it  bad 
traveling,  as  the  snow  would  not  bear  a  man,  and 


AMONG  THE  INDIANS.  217 

it  was  almost  impossible  to  run  the  shoes.  When 
I  got  down  to  Trout  Creek,  I  met  about  seventy- 
five  Indians.  They  invited  me  to  stay  all  night 
with  them.  It  was  late;  but  I  chose  to  stay  alone, 
and  went  two  miles  and  camped  by  a  log.  I  built 
a  fire,  and  slept  some.  In  the  morning  I  discov- 
ered two  Indian  tepees  within  less  than  a  hundred 
yards.  I  suppose  they  had  gone  to  sleep  before 
I  camped.  They  proved  to  be  quiet  neighbors. 

I  met  my  friends,  Brother  Gilland's  family, 
G.  Sprague  and  family,  with  others.  We  had 
quarterly  meeting,  and  went  up  to  the  hot  springs, 
since  called  the  Haywood  Springs,  which  I  had 
laid  claim  to  by  discovery.  Thence  I  went  to  the 
Twin  Lakes.  It  was  thawing,  and  I  saw  that 
Lake  Creek  ran  through  the  lake  just  as  if  it  had 
its  regular  banks.  It  had  cut  a  channel  through 
the  ice,  and  paid  no  attention  to  a  lake  of  a  mile 
or  two  across,  but  just  went  in  and  through  and 
out  as  it  pleased.  This  was  a  very  hard  trip,  but 
I  was  soon  back  to  my  cabin  at  Mosquito. 

That  spring — May  2oth — I  took  stage  from 
Fair  Play  to  Denver.  I  got  as  far  as  Hamilton — 
just  above  Como — all  right.  There  were  some 
five  passengers  in  all ;  Mr.  Cy.  Hall — the  rich  and 
clever  Denverite  of  to-day — driver.  I  was  in  the 
front  seat.  Mr.  Hall  said:  "You  sit  back,  and  let 
Billy  Berry  sit  here ;  he  knows  the  road  better  than 
any  of  us."  It  had  already  begun  to  snow,  and 
the  old  packed  snow  was  about  two  feet  deep. 
The  horses  and  sled  sunk  about  six  inches.  It 
snowed  almost  straight  down,  and  was  foggy.  We 

19 


218  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

had  not  gone  more  than  a  mile  till  we  lost  the 
road.  It  was  about  four  miles  to  Michigan  Ranch, 
and  we  traveled  all  day  till  near  sundown.  We 
knew  the  creek  ahead,  and  Tarryall  Creek  behind, 
and  a  hill  on  each  side,  and  in  all  this  time  never 
saw  either.  It  looked  as  though  we  were  elected 
to  make  a  hotel  of  ourselves.  Unexpectedly  we 
heard  the  report  of  a  gun  a  mile  away.  We  an- 
swered with  strong  voices,  and  made  toward  the 
sound.  We  got  in  about  sundown,  and  stopped 
for  the  night. 

Next  morning,  before  we  got  to  Brubaker's 
Ranch,  crossing  a  slough,  the  water  had  begun  to 
nin  under  and  over  the  snow.  Right  in  the  mid- 
dle the  horses  went  down,  and  the  water  almost 
ran  over  them.  It  looked  as  though  they  would 
drown.  Mr.  Hall  got  to  the  .first  span,  but  most 
of  the  passengers  were  a  little  sick  just  then. 
However  I  worked  out  to  the  leaders,  and  kept 
their  heads  out  of  the  water  until  we  got  them 
loose  from  the  sled,  in  which  sat  three  men  quietly 
looking  on  till  we  got  all  the  horses  out.  We 
took  a  long  rope  and  tied  to  the  tongue,  hitched 
the  horses,  and  pulled  out.  We  stopped  at  Hank 
Farnham's  to  warm.  I  was  wet  to  the  waist  with 
snow-water.  This  was  staging — sledding,  in  fact — 
almost  the  last  of  May. 

I  have  not  seen  the  snow  lie  so  long  since.  I 
think  settling  a  country  changes  it  from  its  wild 
nature,  and  from  snow  to  more  rain.  I  have  tried 
three  States  before  this,  and  it  was  so  in  them, 
and  will  be  here.  Occasionally  we  may  have  deep 


AMONG  THE  INDIANS.  219 

snow  and  hard  winters,  but  I  trust  that  we  will 
be  like  the  man  who  got  married ;  he  said  that 
he  made  up  his  mind  to  take  things  as  they  came. 

I  kept  up  the  work  on  circuit  and  district  till 
conference,  which  was  held  at  Colorado  City  about 
the  20th  of  June,  1867,  by  Bishop  E.  R.  Ames. 
There  was  a  good  society  at  the  above  place,  in- 
cluding many  of  whom  I  love  to  think  as  tried 
friends — Rev.  Wm.  Howbert  and  family,  Brother 
Gurtin  and  wife,  Brother  Templeton  and  family, 
White  Roberts,  Brother  Brown,  Brother  G.  Mur- 
ray, preacher  in  charge,  with  his  wife,  whom  I 
met  on  horseback,  going  forty-five  miles  to  camp- 
meeting.  These  and  other  hardy  frontiersmen 
ought  ever  to  be  remembered  for  their  integrity 
and  perseverance,  contending  against  drouth,  grass- 
hoppers, Indians,  and  the  devil,  six  hundred  miles 
distant  from  the  eastern  settlements.  They  had 
been  a  year  or  two  in  the  gorges  of  the  mountains 
in  search  of  gold,  and  had  spent  all  they  brought 
across  the  Plains  from  their  homes.  Now  they 
had  set  themselves  to  making  farms,  which  so  far 
as  could  be  positively  known,  was  as  uncertain 
work  as  prospecting.  Four-fifths  of  all  were 
broken  up  or  badly  in  debt.  Such  was  the  case 
with  myself.  Surely  the  energy  of  these  early 
settlers  made  it  possible  for  this  to  become  a  State, 
with  all  its  wonders  of  wealth,  its  telegraphs, 
railroads,  telephones,  splendid  cities,  and  the 
boundless  prospects  of  its  future  development. 

These  brethren  at  Colorado  City  determined  to 
build  a  chapel.  We  called  it  a  Methodist  church. 


220  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

In  fact,  it  was  as  much  credit  to  them  as  the 
Lawrence  Street  church  was  to  the  people  of 
Denver.  They  expected  to  have  it  ready  for  the 
session  of  the  conference ;  but  after  straining  every 
nerve,  it  was  found  impossible,  at  our  quarterly 
conference  three  weeks  before,  to  finish  the  house 
in  time.  We  resolved  to  have  a  camp-meeting 
near  the  village,  under  the  shadow  of  Pike's  Peak, 
and  hold  the  conference  on  the  ground;  and  so 
we  gave  it  out.  This  was  probably  the  first  camp- 
meeting  in  Colorado.  Rev.  George  Murray  was 
preacher  in  charge,  and  the  writer  had  charge  of 
the  district.  I  was  there  two  or  three  days  in  ad- 
vance, and,  with  the  neighbors,  we  erected  a  pulpit, 
seated  the  ground,  and  had  all  things  ready  for  a 
camp-meeting  conference.  But  the  Cheyennes  and 
the  Arapahoe  Indians  were  on  the  war-path,  and 
the  majority  of  the  few  members  of  the  conference 
were  in  the  Denver  district,  a  distance  of  seventy 
miles.  Thirty  settlers  armed  themselves,  and, 
with  Bishop  Ames,  made  their  appearance  in  due 
time;  and,  notwithstanding  a  good  old  brother 
was  raising  pickets  around  his  store  to  fight  the 
Indians  if  they  came,  we  were  all  happy  and  felt 
secure,  both  soul  and  body. 

Our  conference  was  very  harmonious;  all  the 
regular  business  was  carried  on  in  the  altar  in 
front  of  the  stand.  We  had  about  ten  tents.  Pu- 
eblo had  one  tent  brought  from  a  distance  of  forty- 
five  miles,  and  Brother  Fowler,  from  Canon  City, 
had  one  from  the  same  distance.  Our  preacher's 
tent  represented  the  whole  territory.  I  must  men- 


AMONG  THE  INDIANS.  221 

tion  the  neighbors,  or  some  of  them :  Brother  and 
Sister  Garten,  the  latter,  gone  to  glory.  Brother 
and  Sister  Brown  had  a  little  boy  baptized  by  the 
bishop  in  his  full  name.  Brother  Brown  some- 
time since  died  happy,  and  the  evidences  he  gave 
of  the  power  of  religion  will  not  be  forgotten  by 
his  neighbors.  Brother  Howbert,  a  local  preacher, 
of  precious  memory,  now  gone  to  rest,  was  there, 
as  was  also  Brother  Templeton  and  wife,  with 
others  of  equal  worth.  All  were  interested  in  the 
proceedings  of  the  conference. 

I  mention  one  incident  in  connection  with  this 
conference.  Brother  McMains  brought  the  bishop 
from  Denver  in  his  carriage  safe  to  the  bank  of  the 
Fontaine  qui  Bouille,  a  rapid  stream.  The  bishop 
cautiously  took  his  carpet-sack  in  hand  and  crossed 
on  a  foot-bridge,  and  as  Brother  McMains  was  ford- 
ing the  stream,  his  horse  made  a  lurch  and  upset. 
He  lost  his  carpet-sack,  with  no  other  damage  ex- 
cept a  wetting  and  the  loss  of  a  suit  of  clothes 
and  a  flask  of  wine  for  sacramental  purposes.  We 
made  up  his  loss,  at  least  in  part.  The  carpet- 
sack  was  found  soon  after,  but  the  finder  thought 
it  a  good  thing  to  drink  the  pure  wine. 

It  was  a  pleasant  meeting.  The  bishop  en- 
joyed his  home  on  the  ground,  and  the  brethren 
were  pleased  to  entertain  the  conference.  The 
bishop's  preaching  was  refreshing  and  helpful. 
One  day  the  friends  got  teams  and  took  the  whole 
conference — except  the  writer,  who  remained  to 
preach — to  see  the  sights  in  the  Garden  of  the 
Gods.  It  was  a  scene  such  as  no  Methodist  con- 


222  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

ference  bad  ever  beheld  before,  and  which  is  still 
admired  by  all  travelers.  After  we  had  come  to- 
gether, Brother  Smith  told  me  that  they  had  con- 
cluded to  send  me  to  the  General  Conference,  as 
we  were  entitled  to  a  delegate.  I  was  surprised, 
as  I  had  but  two  preachers  on  my  district  that 
had  a  vote,  but  thanked  him  for  the  intended 
honor.  At  the  proper  time  it  was  bestowed  upon 
me.  Brother  Smith,  of  the  Denver  District,  was 
elected  alternate. 

At  the  close  of  the  conference,  the  bishop  con- 
cluded to  take  a  trip  with  me  around  my  district, 
of  which  I  give  an  account,  substantially  the 
same  as  furnished  by  me  for  the  Central  Christian 
Advocate,  and  printed  in  that  paper  in  the  early 
part  of  1880.  Rev.  George  Richardson  accom- 
panied us.  We  procured  a  light  wagon  and  camp- 
ing equipage.  I  was  the  driver,  and  Brother 
Richardson  rode  his  gray  pony  and  carried  a  gun. 
The  first  day  we  reached  Pueblo,  a  distance  of 
forty-five  miles.  We  had  the  mountains  on  the 
west  of  us  with  Pike's  Peak  in  full  view  all  day, 
and  on  the  east  the  vast  plains  inhabited  only  by 
Indians,  and  they  rather  hostile.  The  bishop  en- 
joyed the  wild  and  grand  scenery,  and  made  us 
feel  that  we  had  no  ordinary  traveling  companion. 
He  drew  out  of  us,  a  little  at  a  time,  an  account 
of  our  early  life  and  times.  On  our  arrival  at 
Pueblo,  word  was  given  out  that  the  bishop  would 
preach;  and  as  he  was  the  first  bishop  that  had 
visited  that  region,  all  came  and  heard  with  in- 
terest. On  Wednesday,  we  made  our  way  to 


AMONG  THE  INDIANS.  223 

Canon  City,  the  time  spent  much  as  on  the  day 
before,  the  snow-capped  mountains  towering  up  in 
front  of  us,  and  I  can  say  that  forty-five  miles  was 
never  gonet  over  so  pleasantly  to  me  before. 

Rev.  George  Murray,  preacher  in  charge,  had 
gone  from  Colorado  City  to  Canon  City  by  the 
Ute  trail,  and  announced  that  the  bishop  would 
preach  there  on  Thursday  at  eleven  o'clockvand 
there  was  a  good  congregation,  some  having  come 
as  far  as  ten  miles.  And  Bishop  Ames  preached 
a  very  forcible  discourse.  The  morning  was  spent 
in  viewing  the  grand  scenery,  the  irrigating  ditches, 
wheat-fields,  and  lastly,  the  town,  which  was  some- 
what dilapidated.  There  were  several  store-houses 
for  sale,  and  we  raised  the  question  as  to  our 
ability  to .  buy  one,  and  one  was  selected.  The 
bishop  then  asked  us  if  we  could  buy  it;  we  told 
him  the  people  were  not  able.  He  said:  " If  you 
had  five  hundred  dollars  donated  [that  was  one- 
third  the  price],  could  you  reach  it?  I  will  give 
you  that  amount  out  of  my  own  money,  provided 
that  no  part  of  the  property  sjiall  ever  be  sold  to 
pay  any  part  of  the  original  debt."  We  agreed 
to  it,  and  Brother  Murray  began  a  subscription, 
and  was  to  report  to  us  at  Denver.  His  report 
was  favorable,  and  the  bishop  gave  me  a  check 
for  five  hundred  dollars.  It  was  a  gift  in  time  of 
need;  and  if  the  contract  has  not  been  kept,  it 
was  not  my  fault.  It  has  all  been  sold,  but  I  be- 
lieve the  greater  part  was  applied  to  a  neat  church 
in  the  place  that  is  self-supporting.  For  years  it 
answered  a  good  purpose;  the  store-room  was 


224  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

seated  for  church,  and  rooms  in  the  rear  for  par- 
sonage. 

After  service  we  started,  several  persons  es- 
corting us  several  miles  on  to  what  was  called 
Devil's  Gate,  a  passage  between  two  large  rocks. 
The  bishop  spoke  kindly  of  all  the  people  and  of 
his  host,  T.  Macon,  Esq.,  and  his  family.  We  be- 
gan to  ascend  the  mountains,  and  that  night 
pitched  our  tent  for  the  first  time  on  Currant 
Creek.  On  Friday  we  traveled  all  day,  and 
camped  in  the  lower  part  of  South  Park.  It  was 
a  pleasant  night ;  we  had  supper  and  prayers,  and 
slept  well.  In  the  morning  we  ate  our  breakfast 
on  the  ground,  the  whole  company  seeming  to 
enjoy  the  simple  fare.  A  stretch  of  eight  miles 
of  prairie  gave  us  a  good  start,  and  we^were  trot- 
ting at  fine  speed,  when  we  saw,  some  two  miles  to 
the  right  of  us,  six  armed  Indians,  riding  at  full 
lope,  and,  from  the  appearance,  intending  to  head 
us  off.  The  bishop  inquired  of  me  as  to  their  ob- 
ject, and  he  was  assured  they  were  friendly — for 
the  Utes  were  friendly  with  us  at  that  time — and 
that  they  would  beg  us  for  something.  The 
bishop  directed  Brother  Richardson  to  take  his 
gun  in  hand  and  be  ready  for  an  emergency.  But 
as  soon  as  they  were  within  speaking  distance 
they  lowered  their  guns  and  sung  out  at  the  top 
of  their  voices,  "  How!  how!"  and  called  for  bis- 
cuit. We  had  none  for  them,  and  they  soon  fell 
back  and  left  us.  A  few  miles  further  on  we 
passed  through  a  camp  of  about  fifty  more  of  the 
red-skins  and  as  many  ponies. 


AMONG  THE  INDIANS.  225 

After  dinner  we  rested  an  hour,  expecting  to 
reach  Cache  Creek  that  day.  But  we  had  the* 
Arkansas  River  to  cross,  and  I  will  say  just  here 
that  in  1867  there  was  more  snow  in  the  mount- 
ains, and  it  lay  on  later,  and  the  mountain 
streams  were  higher  than  they  have  been  since  or 
for  several  years  before.  We  soon  reached  the 
river,  and  found  the  bridge  there.  It  was  made 
of  hewed  logs,  with  rocks  laid  on  the  end  of  them 
to  hold  them  in  place.  The  water  passed  just 
clear  of  the  stringers,  but  when  a  wave  washed 
under  the  bridge  the  water  would  burst  through. 
When  safely  over  this  most  angry-looking  river  in 
the  world,  the  bishop  remarked  that  if  there  was 
any  other  way  to  get  back  he  did  not  want  to  cross 
that  bridge  again.  That  night  it  was  swept  away ; 
we  were  the  last  to  cross  it.  Fearing  that  we 
might  not  reach  the  "diggings"  at  Cache  Creek 
that  night,  and  as  I  knew  a  house  one  mile  off  the 
road,  they  deputized  me  to  get  a  loaf  of  bread. 
When  I  returned  to  the  road  again,  I  saw  a  party 
ahead  with  the  same-sized  wagon,  and  I  followed 
after  them ;  so  we  were  parted  for  a  few  hours ;  it 
would  be  hard  to  tell  whether  they  or  I  was  the 
most  uneasy.  But  we  came  out  right,  and  reached 
Four  Mile,  a  rapid  stream  without  a  bridge,  and 
we  camped  in  company  with  Mr.  Pitzer.  Mount- 
ain streams  are  always  lower  in  the  morning,  as 
the  sun  thaws  the  snow  during  the  day. 

This  was  Saturday  evening,  and  the  bishop 
spoke  as  to  the  propriety  of  traveling  on  Sunday. 
I  said  to  him :  "  We  have  made  an  appointment 


226  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

for  you  at  the  Twin  Lakes  at  two  P.  M.  to-morrow, 
and  it  is  my  rnle  if  I  conld  not  make  it  on  Satur- 
day, I  would  finish  it  on  Sunday."  "Well,"  he 
said,  "I  am  under  your  care,  and  will  leave  it  with 
you."  We  forded  the  creek  on  horseback,  and 
concluded  we  could  cross  by  doubling  teams ;  so 
we  hitched  the  wagons  together,  and  had  both  span 
of  horses  to  the  front  wagon,  and  I  rode  one  of  the 
leaders.  The  bishop  sat  in  a  cliair  and  held  on  to 
a  seat  in  front  of  him.  The  water  ran  into  the 
wagon  and  washed  it  down  stream  a  little,  but  we 
put  every  horse  on  his  nerve,  and  by  the  blessing 
of  God  we  brought  our  valuable  cargo  through 
safe.  Passing  down  the  stream  a  short  distance, 
I  pointed  put  where  Rev.  Rufus  Lumery  was 
drowned  five  years  before. 

We  now  began  to  ascend  the  Cache  Creek  hill. 
It  was  very  steep,  dug  into  the  side  of  the  hill 
with  not  a  foot  to  spare  on  the  outside,  and  the 
roaring  Arkansas  River  almost  under  us.  Just  as 
we  reached  the  top  I  pointed  over  and  said: 
"  Bishop,  there  I  was  called  on  to  attend  a  funeral, 
the  first  in  Colorado."  He  said:  "You  watch 
those  lines."  (I  thought  it  was  as  much  as  to  say, 
There  might  be  another  funeral.) 

We  soon  drove  up  to  Cache  Creek,  and  the 
people  gave  us  such  an  invitation  to  stop  that 
the  bishop  asked  why  we  could  not;  but  our  ap- 
pointment had  been  sent  to  Twin  Lake,  and  we 
passed  on.  At  Lake  Creek  the  family  there  said  it 
would  swim  us ;  there  was  a  foot-bridge  to  cross 
on,  and  I  thought  it  would  be  crossed  about  a  mile 


AMONG  THE  INDIANS.  227 

above.  The  bishop  hired  our  equipage  carried  over 
while  we  were  crossing  the  wagon.  Both  horses  had 
to  swim,  and  it  ran  over  the  top  of  the  wagon-box  ; 
but  when  I  got  back,  our  loading  was  adjusted  and 
we  pushed  on  to  Dayton  at  the  lakes,  the  county 
seat  of  Lake  County.  The  bishop  said  he  was  sur- 
prised to  see  so  many  out  to  hear  the  sermon ; 
there  were  sixty  in  the  log  court-house.  My  son 
Elias  lived  here,  and  the  next  morning  he  fur- 
nished us  with  two  cans  of  peaches  and  a  quart  of 
cream  for  our  dinner. 

When  we  were  taking  our  dinner  the  bishop 
said  it  was  a  small  b.ut  delicious  present,  and  he 
appreciated  the  spirit  in  which  it  was  given.  The 
same  house  in  which  he  had  preached  was  after- 
ward carried  six  miles  to  Granite. 

We  were  on  our  way  to  Ore  City,  or,  as  it  was 
commonly  called,  California  Gulch,  now  the  famous 
Leadville,  but  we  turned  up  north  to  Colorado 
Gulch,  six  miles  west,  and  stopped  with  Captain 
Cree,  and  our  company  was  well  entertained.  The 
bishop  went  with  the  boys  and  saw  them  pan  out 
some  of  the  pure  dust,  and  he  took  care  to  say 
that  economy  and  prudence  were  of  great  value, 
as  they  were  blessed  with  the  precious  metal. 
The  2d  of  July  we  turned  east  to  the  Arkansas 
River,  which  was  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  wide ; 
the  main  bed  of  the  stream  was  bridged,  being 
covered  with  poles,  rather  loosely  laid  on.  Bishop 
Ames  requested  Brother  Richardson  to  ride  ahead 
of  the  wagon,  and  when  he  reached  the  east  end 
of  the  bridge,  his  horse  grew  afraid,  and  that 


228  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

stopped  us  on  the  loose  poles,  the  river  running 
at  a  terrible  rate  just  under  us.  One  of  our  ponies 
slipped  his  hind-legs  through  the  poles  to  the  gam- 
brel ;  but  strangely  enough,  got  them  out  again,  and 
the  driver  gave  a  most  unearthly  yell  for  Brother 
Richardson  to  get  out  of  the  way.  We  got  out  of 
our  dilemma,  delighted  and  thankful  to  be  safe 
across.  Brother  Richardson  and  the  bishop  ac- 
cused the  driver  of  being  angry  when  he  halloed 
so  loud  on  the  bridge ;  but  they  were  told  that  it 
was  a  case  where,  if  it  needed  thunder  and  light- 
ning to  make  a  move,  it  should  have  been  put  in. 
Concluding  not  to  go  to  Ore  City,  as  it  would 
be  several  miles  out  of  our  way,  we  turned  for 
Weston's  Pass  to  cross  the  mountain,  as  we  were 
now  headed  for  Denver.  Before  we  reached  the 
top  of  the  range,  the  axle  dragged  in  the  snow, 
and  sometimes  nearly  up  to  the  wagon-box.  When 
we  had  passed  over  the  summit,  we  came  to  a  drift 
of  snow  six  to  ten  feet  deep,  and  it  would  not 
bear  us.  We  camped  at  timber-height,  and  the 
query  was,  How  shall  we  get  over?  The  driver 
proposed  that  we  be  contented,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing it  would  be  frozen,  and  we  could  go  on  the 
top.  The  bishop  took  for  his  part  of  the  work  to 
cut  pine-boughs  to  make  a  soft  bed  for  us.  In 
the  morning  we  were  up  early,  so  as  to  get  over 
the  snow  before  the  sun  softened  it;  we  led  the 
horses,  and  pulled  the  wagon  by  hand  till  we  got 
within  about  fifty  feet  of  the  edge,  when  it  went 
down  to  the  box.  But  we  had  a  long  rope,  and 
by  the  aid  of  this  we  pulled  out  with  the  horses. 


AMONG  THE  INDIANS.  229 

We  had  no  more  snow  to  hinder  us,  and  passed 
through  Fair  Play  on  to  Buckskin,  and  when  we 
came  in  sight  of  the  dilapidated  town,  the  bishop 
asked  if  this  was  the  place  I  had -made  my  head- 
quarters. We  answered:  "Yes;  but  you  may  de- 
pend upon  it  I  would  not  have  made  it  here.  Why, 
this  is  the  place  you  appointed  me  to  in  1863,  to  get 
my  support  without  aid  from  the  Church.  I  walked 
to  Denver  to  get  it,  one  hundred  miles  and  back." 
I  had  been  telling  him  of  taking  a  contract  to 
carry  the  mail  on  my  back,  and  walking  on  snow- 
shoes,  and  that  I  made  more  that  way  than  I  had 
in  all  the  time  I  had  preached.  He  said,  u  I  am 
glad  you  do  so  well,  and  that  you  preached  three 
times  a  week,  too;"  and  added  that  it  was  difficult 
to  know  much  of  such  a  country  without  seeing  it. 
But  I  did  not  attach  blame  to  him.  Brother  and 
Sister  Bates  entertained  us  here. 

On  the  Fourth  of  July  we  started  for  Denver. 
Before  we  got  to  Tarry  all  Creek  we  heard  that  a 
horse  had  been  drowned  in  a  crossing  a  few  days 
before.  It  was  a  small  stream,  was  muddy  and 
rapid.  The  council  said  stop ;  but  the  bishop  took 
off  his  coat  and  said  if  we  were  thrown  out,  there 
were  plenty  of  willows  to  catch  hold  of.  We 
crossed  safely;  and  when  asked  why  he  was  more 
afraid  of  that  creek  than  worse  ones,  he  replied, 
"Because  it  had  a  bad  name."  From  here  the 
streams  were  bridged,  the  roads  good,  and  we 
passed  along  pleasantly  until  we  reached  Denver. 

When  we  parted,  after  a  day's  rest,  the  bishop 
said  he  thought  we  had  had  a  pleasant  and  event- 


230  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

ful  trip,  and  asked  me  if  twenty-five  dollars  would 
cover  all  the  money  we  had  spent,  and  he  said  he 
would  pay  it  to  me.  I  will  say  that  we  had  a 
good  time  ;  we  enjoyed  the  bishop's  company,  and 
have  always  felt  thankful  that  he  consented  to  go 
round  with  us.  I  doubt  whether  any  of  our 
bishops  ever  had  a  rougher  or  more  romantic  trip 
in  the  States  or  Territories.  He  has  gone,  no 
doubt,  to  rest  from  all  his  labors.  We  love  to 
think  of  all  our  associations  with  him.  He  gave 
me  more  of  my  appointments  than  any  other  of 
our  bishops,  and  I  always  judged  him  to  be  a 
balance-wheel  in  council  with  our  bishops. 


GENERAL  CONFERENCE  OF  1868.        231 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  GENERAL  CONFERENCE  OF  1868. 

7\  FEW  days  after  conference,  W.  F.  Warren 
•^P-  came,  and  was  employed  on  the  Fair  Play 
work.  He  did  good  service  for  a  number  of  years, 
and  left  for  the  California  Conference,  to  improve 
his  wife's  health.  As  Bishop  Ames  returned,  he 
met  Brother  Warren,  and  talked  discouragingly  to 
him.  But  after  several  years,  he  saw  Brother 
Warren,  and  heard  his  report,  and  said  that 
he  had  feared  it  was  a  mistake  in  his  coming, 
but  now  saw  that  it  was  the  Lord's  doings. 
Brother  Warren  has  been  remembered  pleasantly 
among  us  for  his  hard  and  faithful  work  in  our 
conference. 

In  the  fall  of  this  year,  as  we  had  no  church 
in  South  Park,  and  as  Montgomery  was  almost 
depopulated,  while  Fair  Play,  having  been  made  the 
county-seat  of  Park  County,  was  improving  a  little, 
I  bought  a  building  formerly  used  as  a  hotel  in 
Montgomery,  designing  to  convert  it  into  a  meet- 
ing-house in  Fair  Play.  It  was  a  hewed-log  house, 
two  stories  high.  The  windows  had  almost  all 
been  broken  out.  Two  men  who  had  ox-teams, 
agreed  that  if  I  would  build,  they  would 
haul  the  house  on  to  the  lot.  I  paid  one  hundred 
dollars  for  the  building,  hired  a  man  to  help  me 
pull  it  down,  paid  my  board,  and  got  it  ready. 


232  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

The  teamsters  went  one  trip,  and  would  not  go 
again.  They  were  not  members  of  any  Church. 
We  had  but  one  member  in  the  town,  and  he 
worked  by  the  day  and  job  for  a  living.  We  were 
in  a  close  place.  I  looked  for  some  one  to  haul 
the  stuff,  and  found  a  man  who  said  it  was  worth 
one  hundred  and  twenty  dollars,  but  that  he  would 
do  it  for  one  hundred.  When  the  job  was  done, 
I  gave  him  the  money  out  of  my  own  pocket.  By 
this  time,  Brother  Warren  and  wife  had  come.  I 
found  a  part  of  the  provision,  and  he  and  I  went 
to  work.  We  were  both  log-house  carpenters,  and 
with  the  days'  works  that  were  given,  in  one 
month  we  had  the  building  up  and  ready  for  use. 
It  was  forty  by  twenty-five  feet.  We  took  off 
fourteen  feet  on  the  rear,  and  that  answered  for  a 
parsonage  till  Brother  Warren  got  one  built.  The 
front  would  hold  all  the  people  in  town.  It  was 
comfortable,  and  no  man  paid  over  twenty  dollars 
in  cash  or  work,  save  myself  and  Brother  Warren. 
Best  of  all,  we  dedicated  it  free  of  debt. 

Before  this  I  had  done  most  of  the  preaching 
in  private  houses  and  stores.  Mr.  Hitchcock  had 
often  set  out  seats  in  his  store  for  services.  I  re- 
member at  one  time,  early  in  the  spring,  the  peo- 
ple had  gathered.  They  had  arranged  for  ine  to 
stand  in  front  of  the  end  counter,  and  right  above 
was  a  sign:  "Good  Whisky."  I  saw  the  situation, 
and  said:  "I  never  can  preach  under  such  a  sign 
as  that."  Mr.  Hitchcock  said:  "Mr.  Dyer,  I  will 
take  it  down;  the  whisky  is  all  gone."  He  pulled 
it  down,  and  I  preached  to  about  thirty  people. 


GENERAL  CONFERENCE  OF  1868.        233 

This  time  I  left  Brother  Warren  a  church  to  preach 
and  live  in,  and  he  was  looking  for  a  revival.  He 
asked  me  how  many  would  be  a  good  work  in 
Fair  Play.  The  reply  was:  " Three  would  be  a 
good  thing  in  that  place."  He  said  he  could  not 
ask  the  Lord  for  less  than  twenty.  But  he  did 
not  then  know  the  Rocky  Mountain  sinners  as  well 
as  he  did  afterwards. 

He  worked  earnestly  there  and  around  the  cir- 
cuit for  a  month,  till  we  held  our  quarterly  meet- 
ing, which  commenced  with  about  twenty  hearers. 
There  was  no  special  revival;  and  while  I  was 
gone,  somebody  reported  that  Brother  Warren  had 
a  lot  of  silver-ware  that  he  had  stolen  from  an  old 
widow  woman  down  South,  as  he  had  been  a  sol- 
dier. I  took  occasion — when  we  had  our  largest 
audience — to  speak  of  slander,  and  referred  to  the 
lies  somebody  had  raised  about  the  silver  spoons. 
Of  course  I  extolled  the  preacher  for  having  been 
a  soldier,  and  having  received  an  honorable  dis- 
charge. I  happened  to  know  how  they  came  by 
the  five  or  six  old  silver  spoons.  Sister  Warren 
had  fallen  heir 'to  them  from  an  old  grandmother 
from  England.  "Such  a  lie,"  I  said,  uis  a  dis- 
grace to  your  town,  and  so  far  as  I  am  concerned, 
if  I  knew  who  it  was  that  started  the  slander,  I 
would  run  him  clear  to  the  head  of  Salt  River." 
I  mention  this  to  show  how  our  early  preachers 
not  only  had  hard  times  financially,  but  in  other 
respects.  Brother  Warren  was  a  young  preacher 
of  average  pulpit  ability,  and  untiring  in  labor. 
The  roughs  went  so  far  as  to  shave  his  horse. 

20 


234  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

Sister  Warren  was  a  patient,  Christian  woman, 
and  I  believe  was  the  first  lady  that  ever  made  a 
vocal  prayer  in  Fair  Play.  Although  it  was  a 
hard  place  for  a  preacher,  they  stayed  over  two 
years,  and  did  good  service. 

The  winter  was  now  upon  us.  Our  travel  was 
much  the  same  as  before  related.  One  of  our 
quarterly  meetings  was  held  at  what  we  called 
Cottage  Grove,  half-way  between  Alma  and  Fair 
Play.  We  had  quite  a  turn-out  for  the  times.  I 
agreed  to  make  the  coffee  and  find  the  sugar,  if 
the  ladies  would  furnish  the  rest  of  the  lunch.  It 
was  a  good  dinner.  I  borrowed  a  wash-boiler, 
dug  a  trench  for  a  furnace,  set  on  the  boiler  full 
of  water,  pttt  in  the  coffee  in  little  sacks,  made  a 
good  fire  under  all,  and  gave  a  boy  a  quarter  to 
tend  it  while  we  were  preaching  and  administer- 
ing sacrament.  It  was  ready  when  the  benedic- 
tion was  pronounced.  Our  table  was  fifty  feet 
long.  We  had  the  credit  of  making  good  coffee. 
After  we  were  through,  the  collection  was  taken. 
My  old  friends,  Mr.  Hotstettler  and  Mr.  Bates,  car- 
ried the  hats,  and  when  they  counted  the  money, 
there  were  eighty-five  dollars.  They  all  felt  well 
over  the  amount.  I  never  liked  taking  the  col- 
lection before  the  preaching  was  done ;  but  I  hope 
to  be  excused,  because  we  only  took  it  once  a 
quarter  in  old  times,  and  that  at  a  quarterly  meet- 
ing; and  that  even  after  James  B.  Finley  or  Peter 
Cartwright  had  preached  with  their  usual  power. 
But  our  later  preachers  think  it  best  to  take  it 
every  time  in  advance. 


GENERAL  CONFERENCE  OF  1868.         235 

On  one  of  my  rounds  I  called  at  Fort  Garland. 
I  had  preached  there  before,  and  expected  to  do 
so  again.  But  now  they  had  a  chaplain.  I  called, 
and  introduced  myself.  He  seemed  pleased  to  see 
me.  I  told  him  I  had  been  there  before,  and  had 
all  the  soldiers  to  hear  me,  and  would  take  it  as  a 
favor  to  have  another  opportunity.  But  he  thought 
it  would  be  impossible  to  get  the  soldiers  together. 
I  told  him  how  we  did  it  before,  but  he  made  it 
out  impossible.  I  saw  he  was  not  willing  to  allow 
me  even  to  try.  In  our  conversation  he  made  it 
plain  that  The  Church  had  all  the  forts  under  their 
care.  He  mentioned  as  a  strange  thing  that,  down 
in  Kansas,  there  was  one  Methodist  chaplain.  I 
remarked  that  I  had  known  two  others  who  had 
joined  the  Episcopalians  to  serve  in  that  capacity, 
but  that  we  thought  when  they  left  we  could  well 
spare  them,  and  that  where  they  went  they  would 
be  but  little,  if  any,  better  off.  I  asked  if  he  had 
many  to  hear  him.  He  claimed  only  moderate 
congregations.  From  others  I  learned  that  two 
and  three  were  his  usual  number.  I  have  had  the 
pleasure  of  extending  the  courtesies  of  my  pulpit 
to  Roman  Catholic  priests  and  Episcopalian  clergy- 
men, but  never  have  been  permitted  the  use  of  any 
of  their  places  of  worship.  A  few  miles  further  on 
I  preached  to  six  or  eight  hearers. 

This  was  the  year  to  take  collections  to  pay 
the  expenses  of  the  delegate  to  General  Confer- 
ence. Thirty-six  dollars  were  paid  to  me.  I  was 
anxious  to  see  my  parents  and  children  and  other 
friends.  I  took  stage  at  Denver  City  on  the 


236  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

twenty-eighth  day  of  March  by  the  Smoky  Hill 
route.  It  began  to  snow  as  we  left  Denver,  and  by 
the  time  we  got  to  Kiowa  it  was  blowing  and  drift- 
ing so  that  we  were  obliged  to  stop  for  two  nights ; 
and  cooked,  ate,  and  slept  in  the  hostler's  room. 
When  we  got  off  again,  we  had  gone  only  two  or 
three  miles  when  we  ran  into  a  snow-drift,  and  all 
was  fast.  After  the  driver  and  conductor  had 
vainly  tried  to  extricate  the  team,  they  most 
humbly  acted  on  my  advice  to  unhitch  the  horses 
and  make  the  Kiowa  stable  horseback,  leaving  the 
stage  to  be  shoveled  out  the  next  day.  The  lead- 
horse  was  a  fine  one.  I  unharnessed  him,  and 
took  the  lead-strap.  He  made  two  or  three  long 
jumps  and  was  out.  I  got  on  and  took  a  circle, 
and  got  back  to  the  road,  and  was  at  the  stable 
as  quick  as  he  could  lope  it.  I  had  left  the  three 
men  with  a  horse  apiece,  and  after  awhile  they 
came.  The  next  morning  we  took  all  the  shovels 
and  got  the  stage  out,  and  went  on  slowly,  break- 
ing our  way  through,  having  several  times  been 
brought  almost  to  a  stand. 

We  took  five  days  to  go  from  Denver  to  Coyote. 
We  reached  the  latter  place  at  1.45  A.  M.;  called  at 
several  tents,  asking  for  some  kind  of  a  bed.  At 
last  a  man  said,  if  I  could  sleep  with  two  others  in 
a  bed,  I  could  come  in.  I  lodged  with  them  till  about 
daylight,  when  I  discovered  it  was  a  saloon.  He 
charged  me  a  dollar;  and  I  found  a  restaurant,  and 
paid  a  dollar  for  breakfast.  At  eight  o'clock  I  was 
off  on  the  train.  I  may  be  excused  for  this  de- 
scription, as  I  was  the  first  delegate  and  the  last 


GENERAL  CONFERENCE  OF  1868.        237 

delegate   from  the  Colorado  Conference  who  will 
ever  have  such  an  experience. 

I  made  but  little  stop  till  I  got  to  my  father's, 
twenty  miles  south  of  Pleasant  Hill,  Mo.,  where  he 
and  my  brother  had  settled  some  time  before. 
Brother  had  died,  and  left  his  widow  and  children 
with  the  old  folks.  While  there,  Sunday  came, 
and  I  tried  to  preach.  Father,  being  hard  of  hear- 
ing, did  not  go.  A  man  asked  in  my  presence  if 
the  preacher  was  coming.  I  was  pointed  out,  and 
he  replied,  "I  thought  that  was  the  old  gentle- 
man," meaning  my  father!  After  we  got  home, 
father  asked  my  sister  how  John  preached.  She 
said  that  she  had  heard  him  do  better.  He  re- 
plied: "I  suppose  he  is  failing."  I  thought  it 
best  for  me  to  leave  for  some  other  parts,  for  I  had 
not  thought  of  anything  but  being  in  the  prime 
of  life,  as  I  was  twenty  years  before. 

I  went  on  to  St.  Louis;  and  from  there  made 
my  way  to  Illinois,  Wisconsin,  and  Minnesota. 
My  daughter  lived  in  Minnesota,  and  at  Juda  in 
Wisconsin  my  son  was  keeping  a  drug-store.  So 
I  had  quite  a  visit,  take  it  all  around.  I  reached 
Chicago  the  evening  before  the  conference  opened, 
and  stayed  at  the  Sherman  Hotel.  I  went  to 
Clark  Street  Church,  where  a  full  attendance  of 
delegates  were  shaking  hands.  I  found  nearly  all 
had  been  there  the  day  before,  and  had  selected 
their  seats.  It  looked  as  though  all  the  seats 
were  occupied.  I  was  quite  near  to  the  platform, 
and  remarked  that  if  some  good-looking  delega- 
tion would  take  me  in  I  would  be  obliged.  Brother 


238  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

Baker,  of  an  Eastern  delegation,  invited  me,  and 
I  felt  at  home  with  them.  It  was  convenient,  and 
better  than  I  could  have  done  if  I  had  been  there 
the  day  before. 

I  soon  found  that  I  was  on  all  the  committees, 
or  allowed  to  sit  in  many  of  them,  as  I  was  the 
only  delegate  from  my  conference.  I  concluded 
not  to  try  to  be  conspicuous  in  conference,  but  to 
attend  every  committee  that  I  felt  interested  in ; 
such  as  those  on  Boundaries  of  Conferences  and 
Indian  Affairs.  Some  of  our  Eastern  brethren 
were  going  to  take  charge  of  the  Indians  in  love, 
neither  watching  nor  coercing  them.  I  gave  the 
committee  my  experience  among  them,  and  when 
the  report  came  before  the  conference  I  made  an 
effort  to  speak,  but  Brother  Fisher,  of  Nevada, 
got  the  floor.  We  had  talked  it  all  over;  our  ex- 
perience had  been  the  same.  If  I  could  have  made 
a  speech  on  anything  it  would  have  been  on  the 
red-skins,  for  I  knew  their  treachery,  and  that  the 
time  had  not  come  to  make  bosom  companions 
of  them. 

Our  bishops  had  been  forming  mission  confer- 
ences down  South,  and  many  of  our  best  men 
thought  the  delegates  therefrom  ought  not  to  have 
seats  in  conference.  Others  equally  good  thought 
differently.  Dr.  Curry  opposed  them,  and,  with 
others,  made  strong  speeches.  I  feared  at  one 
time  that  they  would  be  rejected ;  but  Dr.  McClin- 
tock  took  up  their  case.  He  convinced  me  that 
he  was  the  most  cultured  man  on  the  confer- 
ence floor.  He  won  the  day,  and  the  delegates, 


GENERAL  CONFERENCE  OF  1868.        239 

although  some  were  colored,  were  admitted.  I  had 
been  out  on  mission  long  enough  to  believe  we 
ought  not  to  be  kept  out. 

The  next  and  most  important  thing  was  lay 
delegation,  which  was  hotly  contested.  Dr.  Curry 
made  the  strongest  speech  against  the  change,  and 
Dr.  McClintock  for  it.  I  voted  with  the  latter. 

The  next  was  boundaries  of  conferences.  Our 
conference  was  small  in  number;  and  I  had  been 
doing  all  I  could  to  induce  our  bishops  to  send 
missionaries  to  New  Mexico,  as  it  belonged  to  our 
country,  and  I  had  seen  its  degraded  condition,  re- 
sulting from  wearing  the  yoke  of  Catholicism 
three  hundred  years. 

I  blocked  out  a  map  of  Colorado  Conference, 
to  include  all  of  New  Mexico  and  the  southern 
part  of  Wyoming  Territory,  feeling  that  they  must 
take  the  interest  that  they  ought,  particularly  in 
the  Spanish  work  in  New  Mexico. 

At  the  close  of  the  session  Bishop  Simpson 
asked  me  if  we  could  have  our  conference  two 
weeks  earlier,  as  about  thirty  Eastern  members  of 
the  General  Conference  had  secured  passes  to  the 
end  of  the  Union  Pacific,  and  it  would  be  pleasant 
to  go  in  company.  I  thought  a  moment,  and  said 
to  him:  "That  will  give  me  time  to  hold  one 
quarterly  meeting,  and  we  have  Brother  Warren 
to  recommend  to  be  admitted  to  our  conference." 
So  he  changed  the  time,  and  we  had  all  in  readi- 
ness; and  the  session  was  held  in  Golden  City, 
Bishop  Simpson  presiding. 


240  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

NEW  MEXICO. 

TT'THILB  the  bishop  was  writing  the  appoint- 
»  V  ments,  I  noticed  he  put  me  down  for  New 
Mexico.  He  had  inquired  of  me  about  that  work 
and  the  people;  but  the  thought  of  going  there 
rather  set  me  back.  I  felt  my  inability  to  do 
what  ought  to  be  done  in  that  mission,  and  gave 
him  my  view  in  the  matter;  that  a  man  for  that 
place  should  not  be  old,  but  one  calculated  to 
take  hold  of  the  Spanish  work  and  elevate  those 
who  were  starving  for  the  gospel ;  withal,  an 
educated  man.  I  urged  him,  if  possible,  to  send 
such  a  man.  He  replied :  "  You  preach  to  all 
the  Americans;  do  what  you  can,  and  see  where 
and  how  the  Mexicans  can  be  improved." 

My  name  was  read  out  for  New  Mexico  District ; 
and  that  year  I  took  in  Trinidad,  being  the  first 
Protestant  who  ever  tried  to  preach  there.  This 
appointment  was  not  taken  without  at  least  some 
knowledge  of  the  labor,  privation,  and  dangers  at- 
tending a  Protestant  preacher  in  that  field.  I  had 
already  found  that  it  was  not  Mexico,  but  New 
Mexico,  the  outside  or  fag-ends  of  an  old  Latinized 
nation,  that  had  been  ridden  over  by  Romish 
priests.  Being  the  first  discoverers  of  our  Ameri- 
can continent,  their  Church,  I  supposed,  had  lost 
almost  all  but  form  and  ceremony,  and  had  been 


NEW  MEXICO.  241 

backsliding  ever  since.  And  I  was  going  into 
the  most  illiterate  part,  where  the  majority  had 
learned  no  law  save  what  the  priests  taught  them, 
confession  and  mass,  payment  of  a  portion  of 
all  they  had  or  could  raise  to  the  Church;  nothing 
to  elevate  them  to  a  higher  state  of  civilization  or 
make  them  men  and  women  in  our  nation. 

But  some  of  the  better-to-do  among  the  Spanish 
had  sent  their  boys  East  to  be  educated.  The  in- 
habitants were  scattered,  and  the  early  emigrants 
from  different  parts  of  the  United  States  had 
married  among  the  natives.  Notwithstanding  the 
Romanists  had  generally  proselyted  the  children, 
the  men  held  to  their  former  attachment  to  home 
and  American  institutions.  We  could  depend  on 
most  of  them  for  help  in  all  directions.  They 
were  especially  anxious  for  English  schools  to  ed- 
ucate their  children.  I  saw  that  it  was  necessary, 
as  they  were  now  one  of  our  Territories.  Kit 
Carson  was  among  the  foremost  in  creating  an  in- 
fluence among  the  natives  in  favor  of  our  West- 
ern States.  Mr.  Maxwell  was  also  active.  He 
was  an  American,  with  a  Mexican  wife,  and,  by 
long  acquaintance  and  association,  influential 
among  that  people,  and  with  the  Indians.  He 
made  Mountain  Peak  his  western  boundary.  It 
is  almost  a  wonder  that  he  stopped  where  he  did, 
as  no  others  of  equal  prominence  had  yet  come 
West.  He  generally  had  whites,  Spanish,  and  In- 
dians on  his  claim,  of  which  much  has  been  said. 

As  to  my  appointment,  after  all  it  may  have 
been  for  the  best,  to  take  a  man  who  was  used  to 


242  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

mountain  life,  who  would  ride  a  pony  on  an  In- 
dian trail,  and  feared  nothing  when  conscious  that 
he  was  right,  and  had  orders  to  march  in  the  name 
of  Jesus. 

My  small  amount  of  luggage  was  in  Lake 
County,  such  as  books,  bedding,  and  cabin  outfit. 
To  go  to  New  Mexico  was  to  leave  almost  all  that 
I  depended  on  for  a  living.  I  had  one-half  of  the 
Hayden  Ranch  on  the  Arkansas  River,  where  I  ex- 
pected to  make  me  a  home  and  a  fortune ;  but  the 
land  was  not  surveyed,  and  could  only  be  held  by 
being  on  it  or  by  representing  it.  I  concluded  to 
deed  it  to  my  son,  as  there  was  no  chance  to  sell 
it.  I  was  also  the  first  claimant  on  the  Haywood 
Sulphur  Hot  Springs.  I  thought  I  would  risk 
them ;  but  while  I  was  in  New  Mexico,  an  old 
Georgia  doctor  came  along  and  jumped  my  claim. 

It  only  took  a  few  days  to  pack  a  pony  with 
those  things  most  needed,  having  another  to  ride. 
Soon  we  were  in  marching  order,  going  through 
Poncha  Pass  and  San  Luis  Valley;  one  house  on 
the  route  between  South  Arkansas  River  and  Fort 
Garland,  seventy  miles. 

The  first  time  going  over  into  San  Luis,  I  met 
a  number  of  Indians.  I  saw  that  they  were  all 
mad ;  and  as  I  did  not  care  to  camp  near  them — 
they  were  strung  along  all  the  afternoon — I  trav- 
eled till  after  dark  and  camped  without  any  fire ; 
took  my  lunch, -lariated  the  ponies  on  good  grass, 
and  slept  comfortably.  In  the  morning  I  got 
breakfast,  as  I  had  in  my  pack  bread,  crackers, 
coffee,  sugar,  cheese,  dried  fruit,  and  ham,  prepared 


NEW  MEXICO.  243 

to  live  anywhere.  I  met  a  man  that  day  who 
said  the  Indians  were  so  mad  they  would  not  talk ; 
that  there  had  been  a  quarrel  between  them  and 
the  whites  at  Saguache,  and  a  company  of  soldiers 
had  gone  up  and  settled  the  fuss.  The  Indians 
had  left  mad. 

On  the  second  day  I  camped  a  short  distance 
from  Fort  Garland.  I  stopped  over  night  at  Cal- 
avery.  This  was  the  last  place  in  Colorado  on  my 
trail.  They  announced  me  to  preach,  and  about 
ten  Americans,  and — it  being  a  new  thing  to  hear 
the  strange  padre— about  thirty  Mexicans  gathered 
in  the  court-house,  fifteen  feet  square,  and  a  dirt 
floor.  Two  or  three  prominent  men  helped  to 
sing,  and  one  kneeled  in  prayer.  There  was  good 
attention,  and  toward  the  close  the  preacher  waxed 
warm,  and  several  of  the  Mexican  women  wept — 
one  so  that  it  was  noticed  all  over  the  house.  A 
young  man  who  could  talk  both  languages,  went 
home  with  the  woman,  and  asked  why  she  cried 
so.  She  said  she  thought  the  strange  preacher 
had  some  friends  that  were  lost,  and  he  was  plead- 
ing for  help,  and  she  thought  the  man  that  kneeled 
in  prayer  was  engaged  to  help  him,  and  she  felt 
so  sorry  that  she  could  not  help  crying.  (The 
young  man  said  to  me  at  the  close,  "This  looks 
like  a  revival ;"  and  he  learned  the  above  and  told 
me  next  morning.)  The  Mexicans  are  a  kind, 
sympathetic  people;  will  divide  anything  with 
even  a  stranger,  especially  in  the  rural  parts. 

I  will  relate  an  incident  that  occurred  as  far 
from  civilization  probably  as  any  on  record.  Some 


244  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

fastidious  people  would  not  allow  such  a  scene  to 
be  described  or  written,  but  the  facts  are  never 
fully  stated  without  the  lowest  and  the  highest. 
I  have  no  desire  to  burlesque  these  people,  but  to 
help  elevate  them  in  every  department  of  life  to 
experimental  Christianity.  It  was  for  their  salva- 
tion through  Christ  Jesus  that  I  was  out  there 
among  the  sheep-herders.  I  had  followed  a  trail 
all  day  from  Calavery  till  near  time  to  camp,  and 
was  looking  out  for  wood,  grass,  and  water.  Soon 
I  saw  smoke  a  mile  ahead,  and  concluded  to  go 
and  stop  with  whomsoever  it  might  be.  I  rode  up. 
There  were  two  men  and  two  women  and  a  two- 
year  old  boy.  I  asked  partly  by  signs  if  I  could 
stop  for  the  night.  "Si!  si!"  that  was  uyes." 
I  got  off,  and  put  my  ponies  out.  They  had  a  half- 
faced  camp  made  of  poles,  and  a  fire  out  in  front. 
I  camped  on  the  outside  or  back  of  their  fire.  I 
soon  had  my  supper  ready,  and  was  hungry  enough 
to  relish  it.  Their  evening  work  was  done,  and 
they  were  interested  in  me  so  much  as  to  offer 
me  some  new  sheep-cheese.  I  thanked  them,  told 
them  I  had  cheese ;  but,  in  kindness,  they  pressed 
me  to  take  some  of  theirs  that  had  just  been 
made.  I  ate  some  of  it,  asking  no  questions.  In 
due  time  they  retired  to  rest  in  their  camp,  and  I 
on  my  side  of  their  fire.  I  rested  well,  notwith- 
standing the  bleating  of  the  ewes  and  lambs,  as 
my  bedding  was  sufficient  to  keep  me  comfortable, 
even  on  the  ground  among  the  sage-brush.  When 
I  awoke,  they  were  all  up. 

As  soon  as  possible  I  put   my  coffee   on,  and 


MEXICAN  INDIANS. 
'There  were  two  men  and  two  women  and  a  two-year  old  boy." 


NEW  MEXICO.  245 

repaired  two  hundred  feet  to  the  corral  to  see  the 
men  milking  the  ewes,  as  it  was  new  to  me.  The 
sheep  were  crowded  so  close  that  the  ground  could 
not  be  seen.  The  men  would  push  their  feet  in, 
and  press  the  bucket  between  them  to  the  ground, 
and  milk.  The  bucket  was  well-nigh  full.  As  I 
watched  the  milking  with  growing  interest,  a 
sheep  discharged  a  quantity  of  sheep-saffron  into 
the  milk.  The  man  with  his  hand  caught  some 
of  it,  but  let  the  balance  remain,  and  kept  on 
milking,  and  I  kept  wondering  that  the  cheese 
they  gave  me  tasted  as  well  as  it  did.  While  I 
was  preparing  my  breakfast,  they  brought  in  a 
bucket  of  milk,  and  the  woman  set  about  straining 
it  through  a  piece  of  blue  blanket,  which  seemed 
to  be  very  necessary,  as  there  was  a  handful  of 
the  digested  grass  caught.  Just  then  the  little 
boy  cried,  and  the  other  woman  caught  him  up  on 
her  hip,  and  walked  around,  and  the  little  fellow 
began  to  make  quite  a  stream  of  water,  and  as  she 
turned,  the  stream  came  across  the  back  of  the 
women  straining  the  milk.  As  she  was  thinly 
clad,  it  felt  hot,  and  made  her  jump,  and  drop 
the  strainer  with  its  contents  in  the  milk  again. 
We  thought  it  well  that  the  stream  did  not  reach 
quite  far  enough  to  go  in  with  the  strainer.  The 
traveler  was  quite  well  instructed  in  the  sheep- 
cheese  business.  But  there  is  still  a  wonder  that 
it  tasted  as  well  as  it  did. 

We  were  soon  ready  to  start,  and  must  be  out 
one  night  more  before  reaching  Elizabeth  town, 
where  we  expected  to  stop.  I  had  quite  a  good 


246  SNOW-SHOE:  ITINERANT. 

Indian  trail  all  day;  but  in  order  to  have  good 
wood  and  water,  I  was  after  dark  reaching  camp. 
Just  at  dark,  I  got  on  top  of  a  timbered  mount- 
ain, and  the  shades  of  night,  with  the  timber, 
compelled  me  to  light  off  my  pony,  and  lead  and  feel 
for  the  path.  The  big  owls  began  to  hoo !  hoo ! 
and  the  wolves  to  howl  as  if  there  might  be  a 
score  of  them  close  by.  It  was  lonely.  I  thought 
they  might  be  scared  ;  but  as  a  howl  coming  in 
contact  with  a  howl  would  lose  its  force,  I  started 
the  old  long-meter  tune  to — 

"  Show  pity,  Lord ;  O  Lord,  forgive ; 
Let  a  repenting  sinner  live." 

I  happened  to  strike  the  key  just  right,  and  the 
hymn  echoed  from  mountain  to  mountain,  and 
seemed  to  fill  the  woods.  The  owls  stopped,  and 
the  wolves  shut  their  mouths.  Daniel  did  but 
little  when  he  looked  the  lions  out  of  countenance. 

The  next  day  I  reached  Elizabethtown,  a  min- 
ing-camp of  several  hundred,  mostly  Americans. 
Here  I  made  my  head-quarters  for  the  year.  I 
held  a  meeting  for  two  weeks;  had  one  member 
to  help — Brother  Simon  Tyrer.  (I  had  preached 
at  his  house  in  Wisconsin  in  1851.)  At  the  close 
of  the  meeting,  seven  others  joined,  and  the  above 
was  class-leader,  the  first  that  I  know  of  in  New 
Mexico.  This  year  I  preached  at  Trinidad,  Red 
River,  Cimarron,  Taos,  Mora,  Tipton,  and  Wal- 
ters, and  at  Cherry  Valley.  Early  in  the  spring 
I  went  to  Santa  Fe,  Las  Vegas,  and  Tuckalota. 
At  Santa  Fe  I  found  Dr.  McFarland,  a  Presby- 


NEW  MEXICO.  247 

terian  preacher,  with  a  small  congregation.  I 
helped  him  about  two  weeks  in  a  meeting,  as  he 
was  there  teaching  and  preaching.  I  advised  all 
to  join  his  Church.  He  thought  there  were  about 
twenty-five  converts.  One  man  obtained  the  bless- 
ing while  I  was  preaching.  I  mention  this,  as  it 
was  the  second  occurrence  of  the  kind  I  had  known 
in  my  ministry. 

This  year  I  selected  the  La  Junta  settlement 
for  a  high-grade  school,  and  made  a  request  for 
Rev.  Thomas  Harwood  and  wife  to  take  charge  of 
the  same ;  but  they  deferred  coming  until  1869. 
I  have  always  thought  it  was  providential  that 
they  came.  Bishop  Ames  failed  to  find  a  man, 
and  I  was  in  great  anxiety,  with  constant  prayer 
to  God  for  help.  I  took  down  a  coat  that  had 
hung  by  the  wall  for  months,  and  found  an  old 
letter  from  Brother  Harwood,  saying  he  could  not 
come.  But  as  I  looked  it  over,  it  seemed  to  me 
that  if  I  would  write  again,  he  would  change  his 
mind.  I  did  so,  and  received  the  welcome  news 
that  he  would  come ;  and  there  was  a  warm  greet- 
ing and  meeting.  I  had  not  seen  a  Methodist 
preacher  in  New  Mexico  before.  He  took  my 
place,  and  I  have  reason  to  thank  God  that  the 
result  has  been  so  good. 

During  the  year  1869  and  1870  I  traveled  al- 
most all  over  New  Mexico,  making  my  home  at 
Santa  Fe.  I  preached  at  Albuquerque,  Socorro,  and 
Fort  Craig.  I  fell  in  with  a  company  of  about 
thirty  prospectors — many  were  rny  acquaintances — 
at  the  crossing  of  the  Rio  Grande,  seven  miles 


248  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

below  the  above  place.  I  had  a  hearty  welcome 
and  two  or  three  invitations  to  dinner,  as  they  had 
it  messed  out  on  the  grass..  You  would  better 
believe  I  was  glad  to  overtake  those  whole-souled 
miners.  I  had  expected  to  cross  the  Hornatha — 
that  is,  the  desert — alone,  but  in  addition  to  my 
little  outfit,  they  had  plenty,  and  I  was  made  wel- 
come to  all  I  wanted. 

The  Apache  Indians  were  frequently  on  the 
scout.  If  sighted  by  them,  it  was  necessary  to 
outrun  them,  kill  them,  or  get  scalped.  There 
was  a  reach  of  ninety  miles,  with  but  one  house, 
and  that  guarded  by  about  fifteen  soldiers.  Our 
boys  kept  guard  at  night.  At  the  Lone  Rocks, 
twenty  miles  above  Fort  Selden,  the  company 
spread  tent-cloths  over  two  wagons,  and  I  tried  to 
preach  to  them  in  that  desert  place,  the  very  spot 
where  the  Indians  at  various  times  had  leaped  out 
from  behind  the  rocks,  and  scalped  the  weary 
traveler.  This  was  a  farewell  to  my  hearers,  as  I 
have  never  seen  one  of  them  since.  We  parted 
at  Fort  Selden.  They  went  into  the  mountains, 
and  discovered  the  mines  at  what  is  now  Silver 
City.  They  offered  to  bear  my  expenses  if  I 
would  go  with  them.  But  my  expenses  were  paid 
by  the  Church,  and  I  had  set  my  face  to  Las 
Cruces,  where  I  gathered  about  forty,  and  preached 
to  them. 

The  next  day  I  went  to  Masea,  and  called  on 
a  Mr.  Jones,  and  was  used  with  the  greatest  hos- 
pitality. He  took  me  around  town  to  give  out 
my  appointment  for  that  evening.  We  entered 


NEW  MEXICO.  249 

many  saloons,  and  he  treated  the  crowd,  and  as 
often  asked  me  to  drink.  But  as  I  always  refused 
such  offers,  I  did  so  on  this  occasion.  When  he 
had  taken  about  the  fourth  dram,  I  said  to  him: 
"We  had  better  go  home."  He  said:  "Why?" 
"Because  I  am  afraid  I  will  have  to  carry  you." 
He  thought  there  was  no  danger.  That  evening 
we  got  out  forty  or  fifty  to  hear  preaching,  and 
they  all  gave  good  attention,  and  requested  me  to 
preach  again. 

From  there  I  made  my  way  to  what  is  now 
New  El  Paso,  in  the  Corner  of  Texas,  and  preached 
to  about  the  entire  American-speaking  people — 
say  thirty — and  visited  El  Paso  in  Old  Mexico,  and 
ate  of  their  delicious  grapes  and  other  fruits,  in 
that  dilapidated  old  city.  I  saw  but  two  or  three 
that  spoke  English.  As  I  made  my  way  back 
across  the  prairie  to  Franklin,  I  overtook  a  cart 
full  of  grapes,  hauled  by  a  burro.  I  was  made 
welcome  to  eat,  and  did  so  until  we  came  to  the 
wine  factory.  A  trough  was  filled  with  grapes, 
and  an  old  Mexican — with  his  pants  rolled  up,  and 
his  toe-nails  large  enough  to  scratch  the  contents 
to  pieces — trod  the  wine-press  alone.  I  could  but 
think,  as  I  saw  the  wine  run  through  the  hole  in 
the  trough  behind  the  old  man,  "  How  many  would 
take  a  cup  of  that  wine,  and  boast  of  its  purity, 
and  lick  thei*  lips  for  more,  if  they  could  see  how 
it  is  made?"  This  was  in  September,  1869. 

From  there  I  returned  to  Masea — a  grand  old 
town  for  fruit — and  as  I  came  up  I  stopped  at 
Fort  Selden,  and  preached  to  the  soldiers — two 


250  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

companies,  one  of  colored  men,  the  other  white. 
They  arranged  seats  at  the  liberty-pole;  the  col- 
ored company  took  their  seats  near  the  preacher,  the 
whites  stood  afar  off;  but  the  preacher  felt  in  the 
spirit.  The  evening  was  fine,  the  full  mocn  arose — 
the  largest  that  I  had  ever  seen,  it  appeared  to  me — 
and  the  sound  of  God's  truth  echoed  from  valley 
to  mountains,  and  the  people,  black  and  white, 
were  attentive.  Things  were  strange  here.  They 
lariated  their  hogs  by  the  nose,  let  the  dogs  run 
loose,  and  grubbed  their  hay  with  a  mattock  by  the 
ton.  But  I  paid  my  fare,  say  three  dollars,  and 
left  for  the  Hornatha  again,  with  a  Mexican  mail- 
carrier,  and  at  night  reached  Jack  Martin's,  about 
half-way. 

At  night  I  preached  to  the  family,  hired  men, 
and  soldiers,  in  the  plaza,  by  moonshine.  At  day- 
light a  messenger  came  with  the  news  that  the 
mail-carrier  from  Fort  Craig,  that  was  to  meet  us, 
had  been  killed  by  the  Indians,  which  made  a 
lively  excitement  through  the  day.  It  was  thought 
dangerous  to  start ;  but  I  told  them  if  they  were 
killing  men  last  night  they  would  not  likely  be 
there  the  next  night,  so  now  was  the  time  to  go ; 
and  by  evening  the  carrier  and  myself  started. 
We  rode  until  some  time  in  the  night,  when  the 
Mexican  must  stop  and  take  a  nap.  He  slept,  and 
I  watched.  He  had  a  pistol,  and  I  had  none.  I 
thought  if  the  Indians  came,  I  would  take  his 
weapon  and  shoot  till  he  waked  up.  But  I  had  to 
wake  him.  About  sunrise  we  came  to  the  spot 
where  the  Mexican  was  killed.  The  blood  had 


NEW  MEXICO.  251 

run  profusely,  but  the  body  had  been  taken  to  a 
Mexican  town,  on  the  east-side  of  the  Rio  Grande, 
about  seven  miles  from  Fort  Craig,  and  they  were 
preparing  for  the  funeral.  Here  we  learned  that 
it  was  a  Mexican,  who  had  a  grudge  against  him, 
that  had  killed  him,  and  that  the  Indians  were  clear 
of  murder  for  once. 

I  got  to  Fort  Craig  safe,  stopped  for  the  day, 
and  preached  in  the  evening  to  the  soldiers.  The 
colored  soldiers  attended  best,  and  made  the  fort 
echo  with  two  or  three  good  old  hymns.  I  preached 
once  between  there  and  Socorro.  Here  there  were 
a  few  Protestant  Mexicans.  One  old  brother 
seemed  wonderfully  rejoiced  to  see  a  Protestant 
preacher.  The  day  before,  while  riding  alone, 
along  the  sands  of  the  Rio  Grande,  I  became  mel- 
ancholy. The  strange  and  almost  desert  country 
oppressed  me.  I  became  restless,  and  could  not 
account  for  such  feelings.  Just  at  dark,  after  some 
inquiry,  I  found  a  place  to  stop  where  they  talked 
English.  The  host,  who  was  a  generous  Scotch- 
man, showed  me  a  room,  and  in  a  few  moments 
returned  with  a  basket  of  fine  grapes  and  peaches, 
and  bade  me  help  myself.  But  my  mind  was  so 
distressed  that,  before  I  could  eat  of  the  fruit,  I 
took  my  hymn-book,  and  asked  God,  on  my  knees, 
to  show  me  a  hymn  that  would  give  comfort  or 
duty.  I  opened  the  book  to  the  hymn: 

"  Blow  ye  the  trumpet,  blow 
The  gladly  solemn  sound." 

Somehow,  in  my  condition,  it  gave  duty  and  com- 
fort. Next  day  I  called  all  together  and  preached, 


252  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

and  as  there  were  several  Mexicans  there,  and 
they  could  not  understand  English,  through  an  in- 
terpreter I  asked  one  of  them  to  select  a  hymn, 
and  close  the  meeting  in  their  own  way,  as  they 
had  Spanish  books.  When  he  began  to  read,  I 
was  told  to  turn  to  the  hymn: 

11  Blow  ye  the  trumpet,  blow." 

I  thought,  Now  I  have  it  in  Spanish  as  well. 
After  prayer,  the  old  Mexican  took  my  hand ;  said 
he  could  not  understand  English,  but  he  knew  my 
preaching  was  in  the  right  way. 

From  here,  with  but  little  delay,  I  made  my 
way  to  Santa  Fe,  where  there  were  several  letters 
awaiting  me.  One  gave  the  account  of  the  death 
of  my  mother,  and  it  occurred  on  the  same  day  I 
had  been  so  wonderfully  distressed.  I  give  this 
circumstance  as  it  occurred,  and  the  reader  can 
draw  his  own  conclusions  as  to  the  seemingly 
singular  coincidence. 

After  resting  at  Santa  Fe,  I  visited  Elizabeth- 
town,  Cimarron,  Red  River,  and  La  Junta.  Here 
Mrs.  Harwood  commenced  teaching,  which  re- 
sulted in  the  elevation  of  many  of  the  children  in 
the  region  round  about. 

March  7,  1870,  I  started  for  Fort  Wingate. 
After  passing  Albuquerque,  I  found  no  Ameri- 
cans to  speak  of  till  I  reached  the  fort,  where 
there  were  two  companies  of  soldiers.  They  had 
just  received  orders  to  go  to  Prescott,  Arizona. 
After  preaching  twice,  Colonel  Evans,  in  com- 
mand, offered  me  a  free  passage  with  them  to 


NEW  MEXICO.  253 

Arizona ;  but  after  expressing  my  thanks  to  him 
for  his  kind  offer,  I  declined.  I  concluded  instead 
to  go  to  Fort  Defiance,  just  over  the  line  in 
Arizona,  where  I  preached  three  times.  Here  I 
found  the  Rev.  Mr.  Roberts,  sent  by  the  Presby- 
terian Board,  assisted  by  Miss  Gaston,  as  teacher 
among  the  Navajoe  .Indians.  The  Navajoes  were 
more  proverbial  for  stealing  than  killing  people. 
But  the  squaws'  loom-made  blankets  were  the 
best  known.  The  loom  would  not  cost  more  than 
seventy-five  cents  in  work.  They  wove  by  draft 
any  figure  given  them,  and  silk  neck-ties  as  well, 
on  the  same  loom. 

Brother  Roberts  undertook  to  keep  a  few  sheep. 
He  hired  a  boy  to  herd  them.  Some  Indians 
came  by;  one  caught  the  boy,  and  held  him,  while 
others  caught  two  sheep,  which  made  them  a 
feast.  At  another  time  they  came  at  night,  got  a 
ladder,  and  climbed  on  to  the  fourteen-foot  wall 
of  the  corral,  and  took  the  sheep  over  with  a 
lariat.  Well,  he  sold  his  sheep,  and  went  to  farm- 
ing. He  planted  corn,  and  as  soon  as  the  cob 
formed  on  the  stalk  they  pulled  and  ate  his  crop, 
and  he  did  not  get  even  green  corn.  All  this 
time  he  was  preparing  to  preach  to  them ;  and,  as 
one  would  naturally  suppose,  his  first  text  was, 
"  Thou  shalt  not  steal."  I  have  not  learned  his 
success.  This  was  the  beginning,  and  we  can 
but  desire  the  Navajoe  tribe  to  become  enlight- 
ened and  as  perfect  in  religion  as  their  squaws 
were  in  weaving  blankets  and  neck-ties.  This 
was  the  outside  camp,  as  far  as  I  could  learn, 


254  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

that  was  accessible,  unless  I  had  gone  with  the 
army.  One  year  after,  I  was  sorry  I  did  not  go,  as 
our  Church  had  no  preacher  there. 

My  next  trip  from  Santa  Fe  was  about  one 
hundred  and  seventy  miles  south  to  Fort  Stanton, 
one  hundred  and  six  miles  of  the  way  without  a 
house.  There  was  a  mail  carried  once  a  week.  I 
was  not  there  on  the  right  day,  but  was  told  the 
carrier  went  alone  a  part  of  the  time,  and  I  con- 
cluded to  try.  It  was  forty-five  miles  to  the  first 
water — a  spring  on  the  side  of  a  mountain.  At  an 
hour,  by  sun,  I  reached  a  grave-yard,  with  some 
half  dozen  graves ;  but  could  find  no  water.  As  I 
was  looking  for  it,  I  saw  a  Mexican,  with  a  keg  of 
the  article  most  desired  on  a  burro.  He  showed  me 
the  path  up  to  the  spring,  a  mile  from  the  camp- 
ing-ground. After  horse  and  rider  had  satisfied 
themselves,  I  found  ten  or  twelve  Mexicans 
camped  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain.  I  learned 
that  those  who  were  buried  there  had  been  killed 
by  Indians.  The  campers  were  anxious  for  me  to 
stay;  but  I  could  not  feel  safe  alone  with  them. 
So  I  fed  my  horse  all  the  corn  I  had  with  me, 
ate  my  grub,  and  just  at  night  started  on  a  dim 
road  at  a  good  speed,  and  went  about  twelve 
miles  and  camped.  I  built  a  fire  and  tried  to 
sleep,  but  was  too  cold.  After  several  efforts,  I  got 
up,  moved  the  fire,  put  in  sand  until  it  was  tem- 
pered about  right,  spread  one  blanket  under  and 
the  other  over,  took  a  good  sleep,  awoke,  and  found 
my  kind  Preserver  near.  My  danger  and  deliver- 
ance had  been  greater  than  I  knew. 


NEW  MEXICO.  255 

About  ten  o'clock  I  met  four  men,  well  armed, 
who  inquired  whom  I  had  seen.  I  told  them  of 
the  campers,  and  described  the  outfit.  They  said 
it  was  well  that  I  had  left  them,  for  some  of  them 
were  not  too  good  to  kill  a  man  for  the  clothes  he 
wore,  and  that  they  had  stolen  cattle.  I  reached 
Fort  Stanton  that  day,  about  five  o'clock;  and  as 
I  had  no  fire-arms,  they  asked  me  which  way  I 
came.  "Well,  did  you  not  see  Indians ?"  I  told 
them  uno."  "Well,"  pointing  the  way  I  had 
come,  "  day  before  yesterday  there  were  three 
Apaches  walking  along  on  that  hill  and  looking 
down  into  the  fort."  The  men  I  met  brought 
back  the  thieves  and  cattle.  I  was  well-nigh 
tired  out  after  my  long  journey ;  but  I  told  them 
my  name  and  business,  and  they  used  me  with 
great  hospitality. 

As  I  visited  among  them,  I  found  a  man  who 
was  living  with  a  woman  with  a  contract  that  they 
should  be  married  as  soon  as  they  could  get  a 
preacher  to  tie  the  knot.  I  married  them,  and  the 
groom  gave  me  ten  dollars.  After  preaching  to  a 
large  turn-out,  one  of  the  captains  got  up  an  ex- 
tra good  dinner  and  invited  me  to  dine  with  several 
of  the  officers. 

Next  day  I  started  for  Ashland  down  the  Rio 
Benita.  I  stopped  at  a  grist-mill,  and  preached  to 
eight  Americans  and  two  Mexicans.  For  fear  of 
Indians,  they  locked  my  horse  up.  in  the  mill,  and 
barred  the  doors  of  the  cabin  with  timbers  pre- 
pared for  that  purpose.  The  next  day  I  started 
with  a  Mexican  to  Ashland.  He  -was  armed ;  but 


256  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

after  we  got  a  half  mile  from  the  mill,  he  kept 
about  one  hundred  yards  behind,  evidently  afraid 
to  keep  by  my  side.  But  we  reached  town  with- 
out trouble.  Here  they  seemed  glad  to  hear  a 
sermon.  Word  was  sent  around,  and  a  mixed 
congregation  came  together  to  the  number  of 
forty-five.  At  the  close,  a  collector  stood  at  the 
door  and  received  gifts  to  the  amount  of  thirteen 
dollars  for  me. 

Next  day,  Monday,  I  went  with  some  cattle- 
herders  to  their  camp,  and  preached  to  five;  and 
the  day  following  I  got  to  Boska  Grande,  where 
I  preached  to  about  thirty  men.  I  never  said 
"collection"  at  any  place;  but  in  the  morning  the 
store-keeper  where  I  preached  called  me  to  the 
counter  and  gave  me  fifteen  dollars.  He  said 
the  boys  had  left  it  to  my  credit.  This  was  gen- 
erous, and  as  it  should  be.  How  much  better 
they  must  have  felt  to  give  without  being  asked! 
I  am  sure  the  preacher  felt  better. 

From  there  I  proceeded  up  the  Pecos  River, 
forty-five  miles  to  old  Fort  Sumner,  where  there 
were  eight  or  ten  persons,  and  most  of  them  Mex- 
icans. I  only  stopped  over  night.  My  way  was 
still  up  the  river.  I  turned  east  to  Fort  Bascom. 
There  were  but  about  fifty  people.  They  turned 
out  well. 

Thence  I  went  to  La  Junta  and  Fort  Union. 
Visited  with  Brother  and  Sister  Harwood.  They 
were  commencing  to  build  the  main  part  of  their 
present  school-building  at  Tiptonville.  This  was 
near  the  close  of  my  travels  in  New  Mexico.  I 


NEW  MEXICO.  257 

would  have  been  willing  to  go  to  Misea,  Las 
Cruces,  and  to  Franklin  or  El  Paso,  with  some 
other  points,  leaving  Brother  Harwood  all  the 
Mexican  work;  but  Bishop  Ames  said  it  was  too 
far  away,  and  that  he  could  never  follow  it  up. 
So  I  submitted  to  the  powers  that  be,  and  came 
to  Colorado  again,  having  traveled  a  little  over 
ten  thousand  miles  on  horseback  in  two  years. 

During  the  year  1868-69  *  ^a^  ma^e  UP  mY 
mind  that  Rev.  Thomas  Harwood  was  the  best  and 
safest  man  that  I  knew  of  in  my  acquaintance  for 
the  New  Mexican  work.  We  had  traveled  adjoin- 
ing circuits  in  the  North-west  Wisconsin  Con- 
ference, and  helped  each  other.  Afterwards  we 
were  separated.  When  the  war  became  hot,  he 
left  his  work,  and  volunteered  as  a  private.  A 
presiding  elder,  one  of  my  class  in  the  conference, 
went  as  chaplain.  Although  a  strong  preacher, 
he  was  not  popular  with  the  regiment,  and  Brother 
Harwood  was  chosen  in  his  place,  and  acquitted 
himself  creditably.  After  the  war,  he  took  work 
in  the  conference  again. 

This  matter  of  supplying  New  Mexico  had 
been  a  special  subject  of  prayer  and  thought,  and 
I  could  not  feel  like  asking  the  bishop  for  any 
other  man.  And  now  that  he  has  been  there 
nineteen  years  with  his  faithful  wife,  hard  at  work, 
preaching  and  teaching,  I  am  confident  that  the 
blessed  results  have  justified  my  decision.  Until 
Rev.  S.  W.  Thornton  took  the  American  work  in 
1884,  he  had  charge  of  that  as  well  as  the  Spanish 
work.  Mrs.  Harwood,  equally  well  qualified  to  do 

22 


258  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

her  part  in  teaching,  has  been  equally  successful. 
The  last  Minutes  I  saw  gave  over  eight  hundred 
converts  to  our  Church,  all  taken  from  the  Roman 
Catholics ;  something  over  twenty  native  preachers, 
among  them  one  Romish  priest.  To  God  be  all 
the  glory. 

Bishop  Machbceuf,  our  old  priest  and  bishop 
of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  came  from  New 
Mexico  to  Colorado  in  1860.  He  was  considered  a 
great  worker,  and  can  be  compared  with  Brother 
Harwood  in  making  proselytes.  Brother  Harwood 
had  the  advantage,  for  he  had  a  good  wife  to 
help  him.  I  have  been  a  close  observer,  and 
I  have  known  but  few  taken  from  us,  only 
where  fathers  and  mothers  have  been  so  blind 
to  the  religious  interests  of  their  children  as  to 
put  them  under  the  control  of  the  Sisters  of 
Charity,  so  called. 

I  forbear  to  say  more,  as  Brother  Harwood 
should  give  us  a  history  of  his  own  times  and 
hardships.  I  have  given  a  short  account  of  what 
I  saw  personally.  I  am  aware  that  some  of  my 
sayings  have  been  disputed,  but  the  history  is  so 
plain  and  well-known  that  it  can  not  be  success- 
fully refuted.  The  people  in  New  and  Old  Mex- 
ico are  not  to  blame  for  their  condition  so  much 
as  are  their  religious  teachers.  I  have  seen  men 
by  the  dozen  go  to  Church  in  the  morning,  and 
by  eleven  o'clock,  the  same  men  carrying  their 
chickens  to  a  pit  to  have  a  cock-fight  in  plain 
view  of  the  priest's  house.  They  were  com- 
municants, and  yet  I  never  knew  one  of  them 


NEW  MEXICO.  259 

to  be  brought  to  account  for  violating  the  Sab- 
bath. My  prayer  is  that  God  will  convert 
and  reform  that  whole  country.  Indeed,  it  is 
rapidly  becoming  enlightened  and  improved  in 
every  way. 


260  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 


CHAPTERXYI. 

MARRIAGE. 

T  the  close  of  the  first  year  in  New  Mexico, 
I  rode  my  pony  from  Santa  Fe  to  confer- 
ence at  Central  City,  Colorado,  a  distance  of  four 
hundred  and  fifty  miles.  Bishop  Kingsley  pre- 
sided. He  was  on  his  way  around  the  world,  but 
died  suddenly  and  was  buried  at  Beyrut,  Syria. 
I  well  remember  when  I  read  the  account  of  his 
death.  I  had  just  returned  from  a  long  trip  to 
Tiptonville,  and  my  Advocate  told  the  story.  I 
felt  the  loss  severely.  It  was  a  mystery  why  such 
a  man,  so  full  of  usefulness,  should  be  taken, 
and  I  left.  I  was  lonely  and  sad.  But  God 
knows  best. 

In  the  summer  of  1870  our  conference  was 
held  at  Pueblo,  Bishop  E.  R.  Ames  presiding. 
Brother  Harwood  was  sent  to  the  New  Mexico 
work,  and  I  was  put  on  the  Divide  Circuit — all 
south  and  east  of  Denver,  beginning  at  Peters- 
burg, Bear  Creek,  Littleton,  all  up  Cherry  Creek, 
and  the  settlements  on  Running  Creek,  and  Ki- 
owa  and  Bijou  Basin — a  four  weeks'  work.  I 
was  in  the  cabinet  when  it  was  named,  and  told 
the  presiding  elder  to  call  it  Littleton,  or  by  the 
name  of  some  post-office;  but  nothing  but  " Di- 
vide" would  do.  I  had  several  letters  and  other 
matter  sent  to  Spring  Valley,  eight  miles  from 


MARRIAGE.  261 

any  appointment.  I  was  asked  to  preach  in  the 
school-house  in  West  Denver,  but  made  no  such 
arrangement.  The  presiding  elder  said:  "I  sus- 
pect I  will  have  to  interfere  to  keep  you  out  of 
Denver."  I  gave  them  no  trouble;  formed  a  class 
at  Petersburg,  and  at  Fonda's  School-house,  on 
Cherry  Creek,  during  the  year.  We  held  a  camp- 
meeting  at  or  near  Isaac  McBroom's,  which  was 
well  attended,  resulting  in  some  good. 

On  the  seventh  day  of  November,  1870,  I  was 
married  to  Mrs.  Lucinda  P.  Rankin,  of  Cherry 
Creek,  Douglas  County,  Colorado.  I  had  been  a 
widower  over  twenty  years,  and  had  never  seen 
the  time  that  I  thought  I  could  live  and  support 
a  family  without  locating.  But  since  I  could  al- 
most keep  myself,  I  thought  it  was  a  poor  woman 
who  could  not  help  a  little.  So  we  were  married, 
and,  by  God's  blessing,  lived  happily  together  until 
she  was  called  to  her  reward. 

That  year  I  took  up  a  homestead,  and  in  1871 
our  presiding  elder  divided  my  circuit,  and  gave  a 
young  man  he  judged  to  be  of  great  worth  the 
best  half.  But  before  the  year  was  out,  the  youth 
left  without  credit  to  himself  or  anybody  else.  It 
seemed  to  be  hard  to  accomplish  much  on  this 
charge.  The  settlers  were  ranchmen.  Stock  was 
ranging  far  away,  and  the  loss  of  a  cow  was  more 
seriously  felt  than  that  of  a  human  being.  If  a 
man  were  killed,  it  was  looked  over,  and  the  mur- 
derer allowed  to  escape  justice.  But  if  a  man 
stole  cattle,  he  was  almost  sure,  if  caught,  to  be 
hung.  Trial  by  court  was  too  slow  and  uncer- 


262  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

tain.  For  instance,  there  were  three  men  taken 
for  stealing  cattle.  They  confessed  that  they  were 
out  on  the  Plains,  and  being  destitute  of  pro- 
visions, had  killed  a  heifer  to  live  on  till  they  got 
in.  They  were  willing  to  pay  for  her;  but  some 
persons  took  them  from  the  place  of  their  trial  to 
the  dividing  ridge  between  Running  Creek  and 
Cherry  Creek,  and  hung  them  all  on  the  same  tree. 
I  was  not  at  the  trial  or  the  hanging,  but  passed 
by  the  day  after  they  were  taken  down  by  the 
sheriff  and  buried.  Tracks  were  to  be  seen,  al- 
though I  had  not  heard  of  the  hanging  at  the  time, 
but  thought  it  looked  as  if  some  one  or  more  had 
been  hung  there.  I  mention  the  above  to  show 
how  far  many  had  been  led  from  the  way  in  which 
they  had  been  educated;  and  that  it  was  hard  to 
succeed  at  once  in  the  religious  reformation  of  such 
people. 

What  is  Blbert  County  began  to  be  settled  in 
1860.  In  1870  I  found  the  settlers  there  very  hos- 
pitable. It  was  a  mixed  community.  The  first 
who  came  were  lumbermen,  to  secure  the  valuable 
timber  and  the  ties;  then  the  owners  of  herds  of 
cattle,  sheep,  and  horses;  then  the  ranchmen 
proper.  The  settlements  were  not  close.,  and 
social  gatherings  not  large.  The  devil,  however, 
always  introduces  dancing,  which  ruins  the  morals 
of  old  and  young.  And  all  these  years  there  had 
been  no  missionary  among  them. 

I  found  one  saw-mill  where  they  were  willing 
to  have  preaching  on  my  regular  round.  I  in- 
cluded it  in  my  plan,  and  missed  but  once.  On 


MARRIAGE  263 

one  occasion,  when  I  had  come  at  my  regular 
time,  I  found  that  they  had  given  out  a  dance  for 
that  night.  A  young  man  from  New  York  State 
had  come  out  for  his  health,  and  could  play  the 
fiddle.  At  the  hour,  the  dining-room  was  full,  and 
I  preached  as  usual,  and  gave  out  an  appointment 
for  two  weeks.  There  was  a  board  partition  be- 
tween the  dining-room  and  an  office  with  an  open 
window.  Just  as  I  was  dismissing,  the  New  York 
invalid  drew  the  bow  across  the  catguts  very 
hoarsely,  and  directly  I  was  out  of  the  house  they 
were  dancing.  It  was  an  insult;  but  I  went  back 
to  my  next  appointment.  I  had  been  asked  by 
several  who  had  heard  of  the  above,  if  the  report 
that  there  had  been  dancing  after  preaching  was 
true?  I  could  not  deny  it,  and  remarked  that  it 
was  a  new  wrinkle  in  my  history ;  that  I  had  been 
in  pineries,  mining-camps,  and  in  other  rough 
places,  and  this  was  the  first  time  I  had  received 
such  usage. 

On  my  return,  I  put  up  my  horse  at  the  log- 
ger's boarding-house,  and  went  up  to  the  mill- 
office.  The  proprietor  and  fiddler,  with  several 
others,  were  in,  while  cooks  and  dish-washers  were 
looking  through  the  window.  I  knew  there  was 

another  ball  on  hand.     I  said:  "  Mr. ,  do  you 

expect  to  have  preaching  to-night ?"  He  replied: 
"I  thought  you  would  not  preach  for  us  any  more, 
as  you  said  we  were  worse  than  any  people;"  and 
he  related  what  I  have  above  stated,  and  more 
with  it.  "  I  made  the  appointment  in  good  faith, 
and  because  I  thought  you  were  in  great  need  of 


264  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

the  gospel.  I  have  preached  in  several  States 
and  three  Territories,  and  never  had  even  a  back- 
woods fiddler  to  insult  me  as  this  fellow  did!" 
"  Why,  his  Church  allows  dancing."  "Can't  help 
that,  sir.  If  he  does  n't  know  any  better  than 
to  act  as  he  did  at  the  close  of  our  service,  he  had 
better  go  back  and  learn  how  to  behave."  "  We 
will  dance,  all  the  same."  "Very  well,  sir;  then 
I  will  serve  you  as  the  enemy  of  all  souls  will 
never  do,  except  you  repent.  I  want  you  to  know 
that  there  are  plenty  of  places  to  preach  without 
coming  here  again,  where  you  do  n't  want  what  you 
need  most ;  that  is,  the  salvation  of  your  souls." 
I  bade  them  good  night,  and  going  to  the  public 
house,  began  preparing  to  depart.  The  host  pro- 
tested that  it  was  dark,  and  I  must  not  go  away, 
and  was  welcome  there.  So  I  concluded  to  stay. 
After  a  half  hour,  a  young  man  came  in  and 

said:    "Mr.  sent    me   to    say    that    he    will 

have  all  out  to  hear  you  preach  at  eleven  o'clock 
in  the  morning."  At  first  I  said,  "No."  But  he 
said  they  were  all  whipped,  and  wanted  this  diffi- 
culty stopped.  I  sent  him  to  see  it  they  would 
be  on  time.  He  was  soon  back;  they  were  sure 
to  come.  The  turn-out  and  attention  were  good. 
The  case  was  like  this :  The  loggers  and  teamsters 
hired  their  men  with  the  express  understanding 
that  they  could  only  dance  on  Saturday  nights, 
so  that  they  could  rest  on  Sunday.  They  said  a 
man  was  worse  than  nothing  after  dancing  all 
night ;  the  next  day  he  would  whip  the  horses  and 
mules,  and  accomplish  nothing.  I  have  thought 


MARRIAGE.  265 

dancing  the  most  enticing  of  all  evils — the  cause 
of  separations  and  breaking  up  of  families,  and 
the  starting  point  of  almost  all  grades  of  sin  for 
young  and  old.  Yet  it  is  called  innocent.  If  we 
are  trying  to  promote  a  revival,  the  dance  is  the 
best  means  to  dissipate  all  serious  reflection. 

I  tried  to  do  all  I  could  to  stop  vice,  and  faith- 
fully preached  the  Word  wherever  a  few  could  be 
got  together.  Yet  one  decade  without  gospel  or 
religious  example  or  associations  has  a  wonder- 
ful effect  on  people,  even  those  who  have  been 
trained  well.  It  seems  almost  impossible  to  turn 
them  again  to  righteousness,  while  the  children 
lose  all  interest  in  anything  that  is  moral,  and 
have  an  utter  disrelish  of  religion. 

We  found  numbers  that  had  been  members  of 
different  denominations,  who  had  lost  almost,  if  not 
all  desire  to  live  religiously.  Judge  how  pleasant 
it  was  to  visit  the  few  who  had  not  bowed  the 
knee.  Brother  Wm.  Bonafield,  on  Running  Creek, 
was  such  a  one.  He  was  a  fervent  and  consistent 
Christian.  Just  previous  to  our  acquaintance  he 
came  near  being  killed.  A  young  man  who  had 
been  in  the  army  with  his  son,  called  on  them 
frequently,  and  became  anxious  to  marry  one  of 
the  daughters,  and  asked  the  old  gentleman  for 
her.  He  evaded,  and  said  he  never  wished  to  go 
into  such  arrangements  without  consideration. 
He  talked  to  his  daughter  on  the  subject.  She 
said  she  had  no  idea  of  such  a  thing,  or  of  having 
anything  to  say  to  him  on  the  subject.  After 
a  short  time  he  approached  Mr.  Bonafield  again. 

23 


266  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

The  girl  was  called,  and  she  gave  him  to  under- 
stand that  she  was  opposed  to  his  requests.  Mr. 
Bonafield  told  him  that  her  decision  ought  to  let 
him  off  on  this  subject.  But  he  replied:  "If  you 
would  say  she  must,  she  would  be  willing."  He 
answered:  "I  never  do  such  business." 

A  short  time  passed.  Mr.  Bonafield  kept  a 
dairy.  The  weather  was  rough.  He  looked  out 
on  the  range  and  saw  most  of  his  cows,  and  a 
man  riding  among  them.  He  thought  nothing  of 
that,  as  men  were  often  riding  over  the  range. 
When  the  time  came  to  go  after  the  cows,  he  felt 
strangely  opposed  to  going  for  them,  and  told  his 
wife  so.  After  a  short  time,  the  same  man  he  had 
seen  among  his  stock  rode  down  to  the  house,  and 
proved  to  be  the  same  man  spoken  of  above.  He 
rode  up  to  a  log  fence  fifty  yards  from  the  house,  and 
called  to  Mr.  Bonafield  to  come  out.  As  the  latter 
neared  the  fence,  he  drew  his  pistol  and  said:  "I 
am  going  to  kill  you."  Mr.  Bonafield  jumped 
back  and  threw  himself  around  to  retreat,  when 
the  wretch  fired,  the  ball  grazing  the  skull  just 
above  the  ear,  felling  Mr.  Bonafield.  By  this  time 
the  family  were  nearly  all  there,  crying:  "You 
have  killed  our  father."  He  rode  off  with  the  im- 
pression that  he  had  killed  him;  but  Mr.  Bona- 
field soon  got  over  the  shock.  It  was  a  close  call. 
The  would-be  murderer  escaped,  although  quite  a 
sum  of  money  was  spent  to  secure  his  arrest.  A 
few  years  later  Brother  Bonafield  was  thrown  from  a 
wagon  in  the  same  yard,  by  a  wild  span  of  horses, 
and  so  severely  hurt  that  he  died  in  a  few  days. 


MARRIAGE.  267 

We  lived  on  the  east  side  of  my  two  weeks' 
circuit.  I  spent  one  Sunday  on  Cherry  Creek  and 
the  next  at  Kiowa  and  Running  Creek.  It  was 
over  twenty  miles  to  Kiowa.  I  left  on  Saturday, 
went  sixteen  miles,  and  stopped  with  a  friend,  so 
that  I  could  reach  my  appointment  in  time.  I 
rode  on  Sunday  about  three  miles,  and  had  reached 
Running  Creek,  and  was  going  up  the  west  side 
when  I  heard  the  report  of  a  pistol  some  fifty  rods 
across  the  creek,  followed  by  distressing ,  cries.  I 
turned  and  rode  in  a  lope  up  to  the  house.  There 
lay  Mr.  Miles  Maiden,  crying  with  anguish,  pain, 
and  prayer  commingled.  He  was  lying  in  front 
of  the  door.  When  I  reached  him  there  was  one 
man  there;  and  two  or  three  of  his  children,  who 
had  run  over  from  his  mother's,  some  sixty  rods, 
were  crying.  He  said  he  would  certainly  die.  I 
exhorted  him  to  make  a  full  confession  of  his  sins 
to  God,  and  surrender  his  all  into  his  hands. 

The  circumstances  of  the  shooting  were  these : 
This  Sunday  morning  he  was  going  to  his 
mother's;  as  he  passed  the  house  occupied  by  a 
family  which  had  formerly  lived  on  his  place, 
the  woman,  who  was  alone,  asked  him  to  come 
in  and  address  a  letter  for  her.  He  went  in ;  she 
gave  him  a  stool  to  sit  on ;  and  when  he  was 
about  half-way  through  writing  the  address,  she 
shot  him  in  the  back,  near  the  spine.  He  fell 
over,  and  O,  what  pitiful  cries  !  This  much  I 
gleaned  from  his  answers  to  my  questions. 

I  stepped  up  to  see  if  there  was  any  letter. 
His  little  girl,  about  twelve  years  old,  grieved 


268  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

almost  to  death,  passed  me,  and  handed  it  to  me. 
I  saw  what  there  was  of  the  direction  on  the  en- 
velope. I  opened  it,  and  found  a  sheet  of  paper 
with  only  the  half  of  a  name  of  a  town  on  it.  I 
kept  the  envelope  and  paper.  It  showed  me  that 
what  he  said  was  true.  The  stool  was  thrown 
over;  blood  scattered  about,  and  the  woman  was 
gone. 

Before  this  his  mother  was  there,  and  the  scene 
was  one  of  horror.  Other  neighbors  came  in,  and 
assisted  to  move  him  where  he  could  be  taken 
care  of.  It  was  said  by  some  of  the  neighbors 
that  the  woman  that  shot  him  had  been  shooting 
at  a  mark,  claiming  that  she  wanted  to  be  in 
practice  so  that  she  could  shoot  an  Indian  if  one 
came  along.  I  afterwards  learned  that  some  one 
had  told  her  that  he  had  talked  about  her,  and 
that  she  had  become  enraged  and  determined  to 
take  his  life.  He  lived  some  time,  but  was  help- 
less. His  faithful  mother  attended  him  to  the 
last.  The  woman  was  arrested  and  tried  ;  but  she 
was  finally  acquitted. 

Another  reminiscence:  In  November,  1871, 
we  had  announced  our  quarterly  meeting  at  a 
school-house  near  Brother  Bonafield's.  It  was 
the  middle  of  the  week;  and  as  it  was  the  first 
time  a  presiding  elder  had  ever  been  in  Elbert 
County,  Brother  B.  T.  Vincent  took  his  good  wife 
along.  On  Tuesday  it  began  to  snow  and  blow, 
and  kept  it  up  till  Wednesday  in  the  afternoon. 
At  the  eleven-o'clock  meeting  there  were  fifteen 
present,  including  the  preachers — all  young  people 


MARRIAGE.  269 

but  two.  The  presiding  elder  preached,  and  after 
the  sermon  there  was  a  speaking  meeting.  We 
all  went  home  with  Brother  Bonafield,  and  stayed 
till  morning.  In  the  morning  snow  was  up  to  the 
axle  of  the  buggy.  I  piloted  Brother  and  Sister 
Vincent  till  he  thought  he  knew  the  road.  It 
was  wide  and  plain,  snow  only  two  feet  deep. 
But  the  parson  took  one  of  the  numerous  lumber 
roads,  lost  his  way,  and  traveled  nearly  all  day, 
but  finally  got  in.  It  is  the  most  memorable  ex- 
perience of  their  Colorado  life. 

After  I  left  them,  just  as  I  got  to  the  edge  of 
Cherry  Creek  to  cross,  where  the  brush  was  thick  on 
each  side  of  the  road,  some  one  shot  off  a  heavy 
charge  close  by  my  side.  I  was  jarred,  and  heard  the 
bullet  whistle.  My  pony  jumped  and  ran,  and  I 
could  not  check  her  for  seventy  rods.  My  first 
thought  was  that  it  was  some  one  shooting  rabbits ; 
but  as  I  had  been  over  there  a  day  or  two,  and  it  was 
known  that  I  was  to  go  home  that  day,  and  was  a 
witness  in  that  murder  case,  many  thought  some 
one  was  waylaying  me  at  that  narrow  crossing  who 
felt  that  his  cause  would  be  more  favorable  if  I 
were  out  of  the  way.  But  God  only  knows. 

This  was  a  memorable  quarterly  meeting  to 
me,  as  my  father  was  sick,  and  it  was  feared  near 
unto  death.  I  wrote  to  the  presiding  elder  to  see 
if  the  time  could  not  be  changed ;  but  he  said  the 
time  was  set,  and  he  had  arranged  for  it,  and  we 
must  have  it. 

I  reached  home  on  the  afternoon  of  the  3oth 
of  November,  1871,  and  started  next  morning 


270  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

from  home  for  Bailey,  to  see  father.  I  went  the 
near  way  by  Sedalia,  up  Jar  Hollow  by  Smith's 
saw-mill,  crossed  straight  over  to  the  head  of  Buf- 
falo Creek,  and  struck  the  Platte  near  where  Ester- 
brook  Station  now  is,  on  the  South  Park  road; 
rode  all  day — part  of  the  time  without  any  trail, 
the  snow  knee-deep.  After  dark  I  came  to  a 
bachelor's  cabin,  where  I  was  made  welcome,  but 
was  overwhelmed  with  sorrow  at  the  news  of 
father's  death.  In  the  morning  I  went  on.  It 
was  very  cold,  and  I  attempted  to  cross  the  North 
Platte  on  the  ice.  It  bore  my  pony  till  about  the- 
middle,  when  it  broke  through  and  gave  me  a 
thorough  wetting.  I  reached  the  house  with 
clothes  frozen  stiff.  Father  had  died  about  the 
time  I  had  heard  that  shot  at  Cherry  Creek. 

Mr.  Bailey  and  my  two  sisters  thought  best  to 
inter  his  remains  near  their  house,  at  least  for  a 
time.  He  had  been  a  member  of  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church  over  fifty  years ;  a  firm  believer 
in  the  Scriptures  as  explained  by  Wesley,  Wat- 
son, Fletcher,  and  Clarke.  When  the  latter  dif- 
fered from  the  former,  he  liked  Fletcher  best.  He 
was  at  our  house  in  the  previous  summer,  and  we 
had  sacramental  services.  It  was  seven  miles 
home.  Before  we  got  there  he  said  that  he  was 
tired ;  it  was  too  far  for  him ;  but  he  wished  to 
take  the  sacrament,  since  it  might  be  his  last  op- 
portunity. Such  it  proved  to  be.  We  are  not 
without  good  hope  that  he  has  reached  the 
heavenly  home,  going  from  a  mountain  wilder- 
ness to  the  fair  fields  of  glory.  I  was  reminded, 


MARRIAGE.  271 

when  I  could  not  see  my  father  alive,  of  "Let  the 
dead  bury  their  dead;  follow  thou  me."  It  was 
only  thus  that  I  was  comforted  for  not  having 
been  with  him  before  he  died.  But  having  tried 
and  failed  to  secure  the  postponement  of  quarterly 
meeting  for  that  purpose,  I  felt  that  my  orders, 
though  severe,  must  be  obeyed. 

I  spent  two  years  on  that  work;  averaged  four 
times  a  week  preaching  and  exhorting.  The  rides 
were  long.  Received  in  all  eight  hundred  and 
forty-six  dollars  for  both  years.  It  cost  me  two 
hundred  and  forty  dollars  more  than  I  received. 
Having  married  a  wife,  it  cost  me  more  to  live 
than  when  single.  We  had  several  conversions, 
and  formed  two  classes. 

At  one  place  we  began  meetings  in  a  school- 
house.  The  second  night  two  arose  for  prayers. 
The  third  night,  just  about  the  time  to  start  to 
meeting,  a  blizzard — heavy  wind  and  fine  snow — 
came  up,  too  severe  to  be  encountered.  But  a 
dozen  of  us  got  there,  and  I  tried  to  talk  a  little, 
and  proposed  to  have  two  or  three  prayers  and 
quit.  But  a  young  lady  came  and  kneeled  at 
the  altar,  and  though  the  wind  blew  in  the  snow 
till  it  was  two  inches  deep  on  the  floor  and  we 
were  all  white  with  it,  she  never  stopped  praying 
or  rose  from  her  knees  till  the  blessing  came. 
Then  she  shouted  all  the  snow  off  her  in  a  few 
minutes,  and  we  sang,  "  Jesus  washes  white  as 
snow."  Outside  and  inside  it  was  white  as  snow 
that  time.  We  all  went  about  twenty  rods  to  the 
nearest  house,  and  stayed  till  morning.  The 


272  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

storm  was  so  severe  that  all  kinds  of  stock  were 
scattered,  and  many  sheep  and  some  of  the  herd- 
ers frozen  to  death.  We  gave  up  the  meeting. 

I  always  thought  if  a  preacher  could  get  off 
the  second  year  with  fair  credit,  he  would  better 
be  changed.  So  at  conference,  at  my  own  request, 
I  was  changed.  My  new  field  was  Evans,  Platte- 
ville,  and  Fort  Lupton.  I  moved  about  eighty 
miles  to  Evans.  The  house  had  a  leaky  roof,  so 
that  when  it  rained  there  was  water  more  than 
two  inches  all  over  the  floor.  The  floor  was  good, 
even  if  the  roof  was  defective.  An  inch  auger 
soon  relieved  the  floor,  but  I  concluded  to  vacate. 
Fortunately,  Governor  Evans's  house  was  unoc- 
cupied, and  he  gave  me  its  use  rent-free  for  eight 
months.  The  governor  was  apt  to  be  kind  to  a 
preacher. 

We  gathered  a  small  class  at  Evans,  and  had  our 
services.  There  was  a  good  hall  in  town,  which 
was  used  for  preaching.  There  was  a  colony  of 
old  Covenanter  Presbyterians,  and  quite  a  number 
of  Come-outers  from  them.  Once  in  two  weeks 
I  preached  in  the  hall,  generally  to  a  crowded 
house.  I  kept  up  seven  appointments  in  the  two 
weeks'  circuit.  I  was  down  as  far  as  Corona 
once,  and  preached  their  first  sermon. 

One  of  the  appointments  was  at  Bailey's  School- 
house,  three  miles  down  and  across  the  Platte 
River.  One  cold  and  snowy  night  in  the  winter, 
after  preaching  to  about  twenty-five,  I  started  with 
a  span  of  Mexican  ponies.  They  were  wild  and 
chilled,  and  dashed  off  at  full  speed.  It  was  so 


MARRIAGE.  273 

dark  that  I  could  not  see  their  heads.  They  had 
to  turn  the  corner  of  a  fence  to  get  into  the  road, 
and  I  suppose  that,  when  they  got  to  the  turn, 
they  took  such  a  sudden  and  swift  whirl  that  I 
was  thrown  off  my  seat  and  out.  As  I  went  I 
thought  the  wragon  was  coming  over  too.  I  struck 
on  the  frozen  ground  below  my  shoulder,  cutting 
through  both  my  coats,  but  fortunately  not  break- 
ing the  skin.  I  lay  unconscious  for  an  hour.  The 
first  thing  I  knew,  I  was  almost  up  and  trying  to 
stand  on  my  feet.  I  saw  a  light  at  the  house, 
some  twenty-five  rods  away,  and  managed  to  get 
there.  My  face  was  bloody,  and  I  was  a  sight  so 
frightful  that  they  had  to  ask  who  I  was.  The 
principal  hurt  was  between  my  breast  and  my 
back-bone.  Doctor  Bedell  was  sent  for,  and  my 
wife  came  with  him.  I  was  hauled  home  the 
next  day,  but  it  was  two  weeks  before  I  could 
help  myself. 

This  was  the  worst  jar  I  ever  got.  I  feared  it 
was  worse  than  it  turned  out  to  be.  I  only  lost 
three  weeks,  the  longest  time  I  had  ever  lost  from 
sickness.  G.  H.  Adams,  my  presiding  elder,  vis- 
ited me,  and  said  it  would  take  a  longer  time  for 
me  to  get  up  on  account  of  my  age.  That  was 
reasonable,  but  one  of  the  first  places  I  went  was 
to  his  house  in  Greeley.  I  had  a  pleasant  talk 
with  his  excellent  wife.  He  had  two  carriages. 
His  hired  man  hitched  two  horses  to  one,  and  he 
wished  to  take  the  other  up  town  for  repairs.  He 
and  I  sat  on  the  back  seat,  holding  the  pole  of  the 
other  carriage,  and  pulled  it  easily  enough  till  we 


274  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

reached  the  railroad-crossing.  Carriage  number 
one  was  on  top  of  the  grade,  and  started  rapidly 
down  the  other  side ;  carriage  number  two  was  on 
the  other  side  of  the  grade,  and  the  sudden  jerk 
tipped  the  seat  we  sat  on,  and  out  we  both  went 
backwards,  one  on  each  side  of  the  pole.  It  was 
a  solid  fall  on  our  backs,  with  heads  down  grade. 
I  got  up  first,  and  said:  "If  I  am  old,  I  beat  you 
up!"  As  the  good  L,ord  would  have  it,  neither 
was  seriously  hurt. 

This  was  the  most  pleasant  circuit  I  had  trav- 
eled,— the  country  level,  and  the  people  congenial, 
with  some  good  Christian  families.  I  must  men- 
tion Sister  Williams.  She  was  known  as  "  Grand- 
ma Williams."  She  had  come  at  the  earliest  date, 
and  settled  on  the  Platte  River  when  the  only 
neighbors  for  miles  were  Indians.  She  had  wool, 
but  no  spinning-wheel.  She  looked  at  the  grind- 
stone, and  conceived  how  she  could  utilize  it.  She 
put  on  a  wire  for  a  spindle,  and  turned  the  ma- 
chine and  spun  yarn  enough  to  knit  mittens  and 
socks  for  her  family.  There  is  quite  a  difference 
between  then  and  now.  Our  ladies  who  come  on 
the  cars  do  much,  although  many  neither  sew 
nor  spin,  even  on  wheels,  machines,  or  any  other 
contrivance,  having  found  out  more  congenial  ways 
to  make  clothes  and  money.  But  "  Grandma  Will- 
iams" can  not  be  too  highly  admired  for  her  in- 
genious machine  and  inexpensive  clothing  of  her 
family,  and,  best  of  all,  for  her  noble  Christian 
character,  even  among  the  Indians. 

That  summer  we  had  a  pleasant  visit  from  my 


MARRIAGE.  275 

sister  Rachel  and  her  daughter  Bertha.  She  had 
helped  me  to  keep  my  children  together  when  I 
was  in  need  of  help,  through  to  the  fourth  year  of 
my  ministry.  Being  rather  feeble,  she  came  for  a 
recreation,  as  well  as  to  see  us.  We  concluded  to 
take  a  trip  to  the  mountains,  as  I  could  attend  to 
some  things  out  there  that  had  been  neglected, 
besides  seeing  my  son  Elias,  whom  she  had  helped 
to  raise.  Started  up  through  my  circuit,  preach- 
ing at  three  places  on  our  way.  We  had  to  cross 
the  St.  Brain.  There  had  been  rain  in  the  mount- 
ains. The  crossing  was  reported  to  be  all  right. 
Just  at  dark  we  reached  the  creek,  and  drove  the 
ponies  in.  They  were  just  done  drinking.  We 
had  a  colt  following.  My  wife  must  have  a  rope 
tied  around  its  neck,  for  she  thought  it  would 
have  to  swim,  and  she  would  hold  the  end  of  the 
rope  and  lead  it.  Just  as  I  was  adjusting  the  lines 
to  ford  the  river,  I  heard  a  shrill  voice:  "Hold 
on!  the  creek  is  swimming."  It  was  the  same 
man  who  had  told  us  it  was  all  right.  So  it  was 
when  he  crossed ;  later  he  heard  of  the  rise  above, 
and  knew  that  it  would  be  about  dark  when  we 
would  get  there.  So  he  made  all  haste  to  over- 
take us,  lest  we  should  all  be  drowned.  He 
was  just  in  time.  In  another  instant  we  would 
have  been  in  the  deep  and  swift  stream.  We 
backed  out  with  difficulty.  I  have  often  thought 
of  the  favor  he  conferred  on  us,  doubtless  directed 
by  the  overruling  providence  of  the  L/ord. 

When  we  crossed   the   next  morning,  Sunday, 
the  water  ran  over  the  wagon-box.     At  eleven  we 


276  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

were  on  hand  at  the  services,  and  on  Monday  went 
on  south  to  see  the  rest  of  our  folks.  Back  the 
next  Sunday  on  the  bounds  of  my  circuit;  for  the 
conference  of  July,  held  at  Greeley,  1873,  was  Just 
at  hand,  presided  over  by  Bishop  Andrews.  As 
my  work  was  long,  Evans  was  taken  off,  and 
Erie,  Lupton,  Platteville,  and  other  places  attached. 
The  conference  session  was  pleasant. 


A  MOUNTAIN  TRIP.  277 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A   MOUNTAIN   TRIP. 

WHILE  my  sister  was  visiting  us,  I  took  her, 
my  wife,  niece,  granddaughter,  and  Brother 
Washburn,  a  member  of  our  conference,  on  a  three 
weeks'  mountain-trip.  We  left  the  valley  at  Mor- 
rison in  a  light  wagon,  with  tent  and  provisions 
for  camping  out.  We  went  up  the  Turkey  Creek 
road,  which  was  a  good  one,  provided  one  did  not 
slip  off;  otherwise  he  must  take  a  sheer  fall,  in 
places,  of  hundreds  of  feet,  almost  perpendicular. 
Of  a  mule-team  and  wagon  that  backed  off,  only 
fragments  were  left.  We  passed  safely  till  within 
ten  miles  of  Bailey's,  my  brother-in-law's.  There 
we  had  a  long  slope  of  moderate  grade,  and  let 
the  ponies  take  a  long  trot.  The  fastening  to  the 
axle  on  the  upper  side  broke,  and  the  ponies  let- 
ting out,  had  a  natural  tendency  to  run  the  wagon 
off  on  the  lower  side.  I  was  soon  thrown  out. 
Brother  Washburn  no  sooner  had  caught  the  lines 
than  the  wagon  turned  over,  smashing  the  mess- 
box,  and  mixing  up  our  provisions  and  outfit  gen- 
erally. The  ponies  stopped  in  a  bunch  of  willows. 
Finding  ourselves  unhurt,  with  the  help  of  some 
mountain  boys  we  gathered  up  the  fragments, 
loaded  and  wrapped  up,  hitched  the  scared  ponies, 
and  went  our  way,  rejoicing  that  it  was  no  worse, 
and  reached  Bailey's  without  further  adventure. 


278  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

Next  day  was  Sunday,  and  my  father's  grave 
was  there  under  the  shadow  of  the  pine-trees. 
We  concluded  it  would  be  best  to  have  preaching, 
as  there  were  about  fifteen  people.  Brother  Wash- 
burn  preached,  and  afterwards  I  talked  some.  It 
was  a  solemn  service. 

The  next  day,  taking  sister  and  her  two  chil- 
dren, we  made  our  way  to  South  Park,  which,  as 
one  approaches  it  on  the  old  wagon-road,  at  the 
point  of  Kenosha  Hill,  is  as  grand  a  view  as  one 
will  ever  see  in  the  mountains.  As  we  neared 
Jefferson  Creek,  Brother  Washburn,  who  was  walk- 
ing, jumped  on  to  the  hind  end  of  the  wagon  to 
ride  across.  But  as  we  were  almost  over,  he  lost 
his  balance  and  fell  back  into  the  creek.  It  wet 
him  thoroughly.  He  got  out  and  asked  what 
creek  it  was.  I  replied:  "It  is  Jefferson,  but  we 
will  call  it  Wash-burn  after  this!"  We  had  our 
sport  at  his  expense.  We  passed  Fair  Play,  and 
went  up  Four  Mile  Creek  and  Horseshoe  to  tim- 
ber height.  We  left  our  wagon,  borrowed  a  burro 
or  two,  with  pack-saddles,  and  went  by  the  pass 
between  South  Park  and  Iowa  Gulch — known  now 
as  Horseshoe  Pass — to  where  my  son  Elias  was 
working  what  he  called  the  Dyer  mine. 

Mounting  the  women  and  girls  on  the  ponies 
and  jacks,  we  took  up  the  dim,  steep  trail.  When 
we  began  to  descend  over  slide-rock,  and  no  path 
to  speak  of,  the  women  screeched  out  in  affright. 
No  persuasion  or  commands  sufficed  to  keep  them 
on.  Off  they  jumped,  all  but  the  little  girl,  who 
sat  composed  on  the  jack  without  a  bridle.  The 


A  MOUNTAIN  TRIP.  279 

sure-footed  little  beast  picked  its  way  carefully. 
We  led  the  other  animals ;  traveled  slowly,  but 
made  it  over,  and  camped  with  the  men  that 
night.  I  visited  my  son,  who  was  killed  the  next 
year.  The  badgers  or  porcupines  made  havoc 
with  the  straps  and  bridles  that  night;  and  the 
next  day  we  got  back  to  our  tent.  I  will  say 
here  that  the  Dyer  mine  was  not  opened  up 
enough  to  pay  well.  After  the  death  of  my  son, 
I  sold  his  half  of  it  to  Mr.  H.  A.  W.  Tabor  for 
three  thousand  dollars.  Two  years  later  it  was 
sold  for  sixty  thousand  dollars. 

From  here  we  made  our  way  around  to  Mos- 
quito District,  where  I  had  taken  a  claim  in  1861. 
Elias  came  over  with  us.  I  hauled  a  half  ton  of 
ore  to  Hill's  works  at  Alma,  where  its  worth 
was  estimated  to  be  thirty-six  dollars  a  ton.  I 
asked  what  he  would  treat  it  for.  He  said: 
"  Thirty-five  dollars  a  ton."  This  would  not  pay. 
I  let  it  go  for  less  than  cost.  It  has  been  worked 
since;  but  not  to  so  great  profit  as  many  others. 

By  this  time  it  was  Sunday,  and  as  we  were 
camped  near  Alma,  I  was  invited  to  preach.  I 
found  many  whom  I  had  known  in  other  places 
in  the  mountains.  From  this  point  we  made  our 
way  to  the  valley  and  back  to  my  circuit.  I 
preached  at  Erie,  Valmont,  St.  Brain,  Platteville, 
Lupton,  Brighton,  and  occasionally  at  other  school- 
houses.  This  was  my  second  year.  The  circuit 
stretched  over  quite  a  territory.  The  congrega- 
tions were  fair.  The  two  years  were  pleasant  to 
me,  and,  so  far  as  I  knew,  to  the  people  also. 


280  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

A  few  were  converted  and  joined  the  Church.  I 
received  between  six  and  seven  hundred  dollars 
each  year,  out  of  which  the  closest  economy  en- 
abled us  to  save  about  seventy  dollars  a  year. 
The  people  were  not  of  the  wealthy  class,  and 
were  as  liberal  as  they  ought  to  have  been. 

I  was  appointed  by  Bishop  Bowman,  at  the 
conference  held  at  Colorado  Springs,  1874,  to 
Monument,  a  new  work  and  newly  settled.  The 
Indians,  grasshoppers,  and  drouth  had  almost 
used  them  up.  There  were  about  a  dozen  mem- 
bers, and  a  few  of  other  denominations.  No  house 
could  be  had  at  the  time  ;  and  for  a  month  or  more 
we  had  to  go  into  the  back  end  of  a  bowling-alley. 

I  went  around  my  circuit — about  six  preach- 
ing places  at  first — and,  seeing  no  chance  to  get 
any  other  house,  I  went  to  work,  got  a  good  lot 
given  and  some  subscriptions  toward  building  a 
parsonage.  I  engaged  in  the  undertaking  with  a 
will.  Some  gave  team-work,  but  generally  I  had 
to  drive  the  team ;  and  paid  a  little  over  fifty  dol- 
lars out  of  my  own  purse.  I  put  up  a  frame  six- 
teen by  twenty-four  feet,  with  one  partition  nine 
feet  in  height ;  inclosed,  and  lathed  and  plastered 
it.  I  had  some  slabs  given  to  me,  and  put  up  a 
stable  to  hold  my  ponies  and  cow.  When  we 
got  through  we  were  comfortable  and  not  in  debt. 

While,  living  in  the  old  alley  there  came  a  hard 
storm  of  wind,  which  at  every-  blow  rocked  it  a 
foot.  Mrs.  Dyer  sprang  up,  dressed,  and  wanted 
me  to  get  up.  I  was  tired,  and  thought  there  was 
no  danger;  but  she  lighted  the  lamp  just  as  the 


A  MOUNTAIN  TRIP.  281 

stove-pipe  came  rolling  down.  That  brought  me 
to  see  how  the  old  thing  reeled  to  and  fro.  I 
went  out  and  propped  it  with  poles  so  that  it  did 
not  quite  blow  over.  Next  morning  almost  every 
house  in  the  little  town  was  propped.  A  car, 
used  by  some  railroad  men  for  cooking  and  sleep- 
ing, was  turned  over,  and  several  of  its  occupants 
had  their  heads  tied  up.  But  our  new  parsonage 
was  all  right. 

For  two  months  and  a  half  I  attended  to  three 
appointments  a  week,  all  on  Sunday,  and  yet  lost 
no  time  from  work  on  the  parsonage.  Counting 
the  work,  the  parsonage  cost  over  three  hundred 
dollars.  It  was  on  a  good  lot,  and  we  felt  that 
we  had  a  right  to  be  thankful  and  somewhat 
proud  to  have  so  good  a  house.  To  be  sure  we 
were  not  able  to  get  seasoned  lumber  to  lay  the 
floor,  but  we  keyed  up  the  green  lumber,  and  had 
carpet,  and  got  along  comfortably  with  that.  I 
speak  of  this  to  give  some  idea  of  how  matters 
were  then  and  now. 

We  had  a  small  frame  church,  which  had  been 
built  by  Brother  Warren,  who  had  formed  a 
society  some  two  or  three  years  before,  and  before 
the  railroad  had  been  thought  of.  But  when  it 
was  made,  they  put  the  depot  two  and  a  half 
miles  from  the  church.  We  preached  in  it  all  the 
time,  and  it  was  fairly  filled  with  attentive  hear- 
ers, as  was  the  school-house  at  Monument,  where 
we  lived.  Near  the  holidays  we  commenced  a 
protracted  meeting,  and  held  a  week  before  the 
work  began  among  the  people.  In  two  weeks  we 

24 


282  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

had  about  twenty  conversions,  and  about  the  same 
number  joined  the  Church,  and  good  was  (fane  an 
around  the  circuit.  We  enlarged  the  circuit  to 
include  Table  Rock,  a  good  settlement,  prospected 
the  country  generally,  and  had  hopes  that  it  would 
be  a  good  circuit. 

At  the  close  of  the  year's  work,  our  conference 
met  at  Central  City,  Bishop  Haven  presiding  with 
his  usual  acceptability.  I  was  read  out  for  Monu- 
ment, the  second  time.  Being  acquainted,  I 
started  in  at  once,  and  held  a  meeting  at  Spring 
Valley,  and  formed  a  class ;  and  near  the  holidays 
commenced  at  the  old  church  another  effort  for  re- 
vival. We  had  about  the  same  results — a  refresh- 
ing time — things  went  pleasantly  and  quietly. 

When  the  4th  of  July,  1875,  came,  we  had  a 
dinner  and  some  speaking — a  very  pleasant  time — 
in  a  grove.  I  remember  how  comfortable  I  felt  in 
realizing  what  liberty  and  blessings  we  had  in  our 
United  States,  and  how  thankful  we  ought  to  be 
for  them,  although  they  had  cost  the  blood  of  so 
many  of  our  friends.  About  that  same  time,  at 
Granite,  in  Lake  County,  they  were  interring  my 
son,  who  had  been  murdered  by  a  lawless  mob — 
of  which  dreadful  tragedy  I  heard  the  next  day. 
The  particulars  I  will  relate  at  the  close  of  this 
year's  record.  The  shock  of  this  affliction  almost 
overcame  me.  My  boy  was  gone!  What  should 
I  do?  Temptations  arose  like  a  torrent,  and 
naught  but  vengeance  presented  itself.  But  the 
Spirit  whispered:  " Vengeance  is  mine;  I  will  re- 
pay, saith  the  Lord." 


A  MOUNTAIN  TRIP.  283 

I  had  a  thousand  thoughts  to  investigate  as 
they  came.  It  was  intimated  if  I  wanted  help  to 
take  redress,  I  could  have  it.  But  that  would  be 
mob-law,  and  the  guilty  might  go  clear,  and  some 
innocent  man  be  killed.  It  would  not  be  right, 
nor  would  it  restore  the  dead  to  life.  I  could  only 
go  to  God  in  humble  prayer  for  help  in  this  time 
of  awful  conflict,  and  he  was  indeed  my  consola- 
tion and  a  present  help  in  time  of  trouble.  I  de- 
termined to  do  what  I  could  to  have  law  enforced 
upon  the  guilty;  by  God's  help  to  do  my  duty,  and 
to  take  him  for  my  refuge.  Soon  I  was  able  to 
say:  " Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  him." 
And  so  I  prepared  for  my  Sunday's  work.  But 
continually  the  temptation  would  come:  uAs  they 
have  taken  life,  only  life  for  life  can  repay;"  and 
as  I  was  well  acquainted  with  every  hill  and  gorge 
in  their  county,  I  could  see  just  how  it  could  be 
done  with  but  little  danger  to  myself.  The  thought 
came:  " But  little  justice  has  ever  been  meted  out, 
by  a  course  of  law,  in  this  country."  And  then, 
when  almost  roused  to  desperation,  this  other 
thought  would  come:  "But  I  have  a  right  to  pro- 
tection by  the  laws  of  our  land;  a  right  I  not  only 
inherited — my  ancestors  fought  in  the  past — but 
purchased  anew  by  the  valor  of  my  own  sons,  who 
shed  their  blood  in  the  last  war;  so,  not  by  vio- 
lence, but  by  law,  must  I  be  protected  and  righted 
even  in  this."  But  no  one  can  understand  the  con- 
flict through  which  I  passed,  except  he  be  placed 
in  the  like  circumstances.  After  the  lapse  of  al- 
most twelve  years,  I  thank  God  that  I  was  enabled 


284  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

to  bear  up,  and  to  resist  the  terrible  temptation 
that  had  well-nigh  overthrown  me.  All  this  con- 
flict was  before  I  had  heard  anything  beyond  the 
fact  that  my  son  was  shot  in  the  court-house.  I 
kept  up  the  work  of  my  charge  as  well  as  I  could. 
Monument,  Spring  Valley,  and  Table  Rock,  I  con- 
cluded, would  make  a  good  circuit  in  the  near 
future.  This  year  the  grasshoppers  ate  up  every- 
thing, and  some  of  our  Methodist  folks  moved 
away.  The  new  presiding  elder  seemed  to  judge 
things  from  the  depot.  If  the  towrn  was  small,  he 
swapped  off  and  let  the  charge  go.  Well,  it  never 
seemed  the  best  thing;  but  if  the  Presbyterians 
or  other  Churches  can  and  will  save  as  many  souls 
as  the  Methodists,  it  will  be  well. 

These  were  hard  years  of  labor  and  affliction, 
never  to  be  forgotten.  I  received  $904  in  the  two 
years,  all  told,  and  it  cost  me  $170  more  than  I 
got.  Even  the  parsonage  I  built  they  let  run 
down,  and  finally  sold  it  for  fifty  dollars.  A  more 
careful  and  minute  inspection  of  the  field  by  the 
presiding  elder  would,  I  verily  believe,  save  many 
promising  appointments  to  our  Church. 


LAKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES.      385 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

f 
LAKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES. 

WHEN  I  came  into  the  mountains,  in  1861, 
Lake  County  included  all  the  territory 
west  of  Park  County.  My  first  visit  was  in  July 
of  that  year.  I  was  well  acquainted  with  its 
mountains  and  gorges  as  far  as  Gunnison,  and 
equally  well  acquainted  with  the  early  settlers. 
To  say  the  least,  they  were  a  fair  specimen  of 
miners  in  the  early  days  of  Colorado.  I  believe  I 
had  their  general  good-will  as  I  preached  to  them. 
I  felt  at  home  among  them,  and,  indeed,  called  it 
home  from  1866  to  1868,  during  which  time  I 
helped  to  get  some  settlers  into  the  lower  part  of 
the  county.  It  must  be  remembered  that  Chaffee 
County  has  been  taken  off  since.  In  1867  I  was 
elected  prolate  judge  of  the  county.  I  did  not 
want  the  office  for  honor  or  profit ;  but  the  majority 
of  the  people  called  me  to  it.  I  served  them  about 
one  year,  and  then  resigned,  having  been  sent  by 
the  conference  to  New  Mexico. 

I  had  reason  to  respect  many  of  the  citizens. 
Few  professed  anything  but  to  take  the  world  as 
it  came,  and  that  generally  proved  to  be  a  very 
rough  way.  Below  the  Twin  Lakes  the  settlers  were 
mostly  ranchmen.  All  seemed  to  go  along  fairly  ; 
but  tale-bearing,  a  lie  once  in  awhile,  land-claims 
and  surveying  land,  in  some  cases  entering  land 


286  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

fraudulently,  irrigating  ditches— the  depraved  heart, 
full  of  covetousness,  made  great  use  of  all  these 
to  stir  up  strife.  Out  of  very  trivial  causes  great 
dissensions  sometimes  arose.  I  mention  one  case, 
because  it  led  up  to  the  murder  of  my  son:  Mr. 
Elijah  Gibbs,  a  very  straightforward  man,  moved 
into  the  neighborhood.  The  disposition  of  the 
older  settlers  was  to  domineer  over  the  new- 
comers. If  they  submitted,  all  right ;  if  not,  then 
there  were  means  to  subdue  their  haughty  spirits. 
So  when  Mr.  Gibbs  drove  up  and  tied  his  team 
where  a  gang  were  threshing,  he  was  soon  aston- 
ished at  seeing  his  team  hitched  to  the  machine, 
his  permission  having  neither  been  asked  nor 
granted.  He  indignantly  and,  I  fear,  profanely 
ordered  his  team  put  back,  under  pains  and  penal- 
ties. From  then  on  there  was  bad  blood  between 
these  parties,  aggravated  by  conflicting  land  and 
water  claims.  Mr.  Gibbs  and  Mr.  Harrington 
quarreled  over  a  ditch  in  which  they  were  jointly 
interested.  Almost  a  pitched  battle  ensued,  but 
neither  was  hurt.  That  night  somebody  set  fire 
to  Mr.  Harrington's  out-house.  He  got  up,  and  ran 
out  to  extinguish  the  fire,  and  was  shot  and  killed 
by  some  person  unknown.  There  is  no  question 
but  that  whoever  did  the  dastardly  deed  should 
have  been  hung.  The  circumstances  of  the  pre- 
vious quarrel  pointed  suspicion  at  Gibbs.  As  soon 
as  the  word  went  out,  a  party  gathered  and  went 
to  hang  him.  But  he  and  some  of  his  friends 
were  armed,  and  declared  that  it  could  not  be 
done  ;  but  that  if  they  wished  to  try  the  law  they 


LAKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES.       287 

could  do  so  ;  and  if  Gibbs  was  found  guilty,  justice 
would  be  permitted  to  take  its  course. 

A  warrant  was  taken  out,  and  he  was  tried  and 
acquitted.  He  went  back  and  went  to  work  on 
his  ranch,  intending  to  live  the  suspicion  down ; 
but  those  who  first  went  to  hang  him,  to  the  num- 
ber of  fifteen,  filled  themselves  with  strong  drink, 
went  to  his  cabin,  and  ordered  him  to  come  out 
and  be  hung  like  a  man.  Gibbs  was  alone,  ex- 
cept his  wife  and  little  children,  and  a  neighbor 
woman  with  her  little  child ;  but  his  courage  and 
presence  of  mind  did  not  desert  him.  Barring  the 
door,  he  prepared  to  defend  himself.  His  be- 
siegers piled  brush  against  the  back  of  the  house 
and  fired  it,  to  drive  him  out.  The  result  not  be- 
ing satisfactory,  using  Gibbs's  favorite  race-horse 
as  a  shield,  they  made  another  pile  against  the 
door.  Through  a  hole  at  the  side  of  the  door 
Gibbs  saw  what  was  going  on,  and  realized  the 
imminence  of  his  peril.  When  one  of  his  assail- 
ants struck  a  match  to  fire  the  pile,  he  opened 
with  his  revolver  on  the  crowd,  shooting  two  men. 
A  third  was  wounded,  but  with  shot.  As  no  shot- 
gun was  discharged  from  within,  it  is  likely  that 
in  the  excitement  outside  a  gun  was  accidentally 
fired,  with  the  result  stated  above. 

Discovering  a  man  at  the  back  of  the  house 
climbing  on  to  the  yard-fence,  he  shot  at  him 
through  the  window.  He  heard  the  ball  strike, 
and  thought  it  hit  his  pistol-scabbard,  and  that 
the  man  was  one  of  the  leaders.  It  turned  out, 
however,  to  be  a  man  who  lived  with  one  of  the 


288  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

leaders,  and  he  was  wounded  in  the  fleshy  part  of 
the  hip.  I  believe  this  man  recovered ;  but  the 
other  three  died  in  about  three  days,  two  brothers 
and  an  uncle.  I  heard  they  expressed  sorrow  for 
the  course  they  had  taken,  and  said  they  did  not 
blame  Gibbs  for  the  defense  of  his  family. 

The  excitement  was  past  description.  Gibbs's 
friends  thought  it  best  for  him  to  leave.  So,  with 
two  or  three  othrs,  he  started.  But  his  would- 
be  murderers  collected  and  pursued  him,  bound 
to  take  him  dead  or  alive.  Gibbs's  party  made 
their  escape  through  the  mountains — sometimes 
hearing  their  pursuers — to  Monument,  where  they 
had  acquaintances,  with  whom  they  left  their 
horses,  and  took  the  cars  for  Denver. 

When  Gibbs's  baffled  pursuers  went  back,  they 
formed  what  they  called  a  Committee  of  Safety ! — 
after  they  had  got  three  men  killed  and  one 
wounded.  Everybody  said  that  Gibbs  had  done 
just  right  in  defending  himself,  and  that  if  he  had 
killed  more  of  them  it  would  have  been  well. 
The  press  of  the  Territory  also  sustained  him. 
This  "Committee  of  Safety "  gathered  all  they 
could  on  their  side,  including  a  lot  of  tie-cutters, 
some  sixty  men  all  told.  They  seized  horses  to 
ride,  and  they  arrested  all  who  did  not  think  or  do 
and  say  as  they  did.  Head-quarters  were  at 
Nathrop's  mills.  As  the  suspects  were  brought 
in,  the  committee  questioned  them  as  to  their 
opinion  whether  Gibbs  murdered  Harrington. 
This  was  all  the  reason  they  claimed  for  their 
tyrannical  procedure. 


LAKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES.      289 

Among  those  hauled  up  was  my  son,  Probate 
Judge  E.  F.  Dyer.  They  acted  roughly  with  him ; 
asked  if  he  believed  Gibbs  shot  Mr.  Harrington, 
etc.  He  told  them  he  did  not.  When  he  was 
forty  miles  away  at  work,  he  heard  that  Gibbs  had 
done  it;  but  had  then  said  that  he  could  not  and 
would  not  believe  it  unless  it  was  proven  on  him. 
He  had  known  Gibbs  ever  since  1860,  and  firmly 
believed  that  he  was  innocent  of  the  crime  alleged 
against  him. 

Of  course  the  "committee"  were  furious.  He 
had  a  pistol  on  his  person,  and  could  have  used  it, 
but  determined  that  he  would  not  unless  his  life 
were  in  danger. 

A  notice,  signed  by  order  of  the  committee,  to 
leave  within  three  days  and  to  resign  his  office, 
was  served  on  him;  but  as  they  had  taken  his 
horse,  and  as  he  could  not  walk  in  the  snow  by 
reason  of  a  stiff  knee  from  white-swelling,  he  did 
not  obey.  So  the  second  time  they  brought  him 
before  their  august  presence.  He  insisted  on  the 
return  of  his  horse,  and  finally  they  brought  it, 
and  he  started.  A  few  miles  out,  as  he  was  going 
up  a  gorge,  he  was  stopped  by  a  guard  of  two 
armed  men.  Their  orders  were  to  let  no  one 
come  out  or  go  in  on  that  road.  One  of  them  had 
been  befriended  by  him,  and  gave  him  permission 
to  go  to  Granite.  He  headed  in  that  direction, 
but  soon  turned  toward  Fair  Play,  avoiding  the 
road  for  some  mjles.  It  was  hard  traveling,  as 
the  snow  was  deep,  and  the  weather  cold,  in  mid- 
winter. Some  time  in  the  night  he  reached  Fair 

25 


290  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

Play.  Thence  he  went  to  Denver,  and  visited  us 
at  Monument. 

The  mob  of  safety  procured  government  arms, 
and  ran  off  about  forty  of  the  inhabitants.  It  was 
their  gentle  policy,  when  their  prisoners  would  not 
answer  the  questions  satisfactorily,  to  hang  them 
awhile  in  order  to  subdue  their  refractory  spirits. 
One  of  their  victims,  a  Mr.  Marion,  I  saw  while 
his  neck  was  yet  sore.  Some  had  to  leave  home 
and  property,  some  stock  on  the  range.  One  or 
more  women  died  from  the  terrible  excitement. 
A  Mr.  Hardin,  the  outspoken  proprietor  of  a  pack- 
train,  cursed  their  infamous  conduct,  and  was  soon 
thereafter  found  by  the  roadside  murdered,  to- 
gether with  his  dog,  whose  paw  the  ruffians  had 
clasped  in  the  dead  man's  hand. 

And  all  this  where  there  were  laws,  and  courts, 
and  officers  to  prevent  such  outrages,  or  to  punish 
their  perpetrators !  But  it  appeared  that  judge, 
governor,  constable,  sheriff,  like  Gallio,  "cared  for 
none  of  these  things."  I  had  a  talk  with  the 
governor,  and  asked  him  to  send  men  to  put  a 
stop  to  such  proceedings.  He  intimated  that  he 
had  heard  from  the  other  side,  and  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  my  plea.  I  said,  "  Governor,  if  you  won't 
do  anything  to  stop  such  a  state  of  affairs,  I  am 
keen  to  tell  you  that  I  have  no  use  for  such  a 
governor,  and  our  country  has  much  Jess  use,"  and 
left  him.  I  concluded  that  it  was  a  political 
dodge,  and  that  he  wanted  to  be  on  the  strongest 
side,  even  at  the  price  of  not  fulfilling  the  obliga- 
tions of  the  highest  office  in  the  Territory.  The 


LAKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES.      291 

mob  carried  all  before  them,  and  always  managed 
to  have  a  grand  jury  that  was  on  their  side. 

At  the  first  meeting  of  our  representatives,  I 
thought  to  get  a  bill  passed  to  attach  Lake  to 
some  other  county  for  judicial  purposes.  I  went 
to  as  many  as  three  Republicans  to  help  me  after 
the  governor  refused.  They  either  wished  to  be 
excused,  or  refused  outright  to  take  a  hand  in  it. 
I  felt  that  I  had  some  claim  for  help  in  such  a 
time  of  distress  and  violation  of  laws;  but  I  got 
the  cold  shoulder.  I  met  Judge  Miller.  He  was 
acquainted  with  the  case ;  said  he  would  draw  the 
bill,  for  he  believed  E.  F.  Dyer  was  a  part  of  the 
government.  After  having  been  refused  by  my 
own  party,  I  met  Mr.  Andy  Wilson,  a  Democrat, 
and  he  took  the  bill,  and  at  the  proper  time,  pre- 
sented it.  As  soon  as  it  was  filed,  a  delegation 
came  down  from  Lake  and  defeated  it.  This  was 
from  the  upper  end  of  the  county,  before  Lead- 
ville's  boom,  when  the  county  was  weak.  Not 
many  of  them  had  anything  to  do  with  the  mob, 
but  did  nothing  to  stop  it.  When  it  took  such 
proportions,  they,  or  most  of  them,  would  rather 
let  murder  go  unpunished  than  to  saddle  the  feeble 
county  with  the  expense  of  prosecuting  the  offend- 
ers. And  as  soon  as  news  of  the  defeat  of  the  bill 
got  to  Oro,  a  meeting  was  called  at  Mr.  H.  A.  W. 
Tabor's  store,  the  largest  house  there ;  and  resolu- 
tions were  adopted  commending  S.  Y.  Marshall 
and  others  for  the  defeat  of  the  "infamous"  and 
"nefarious"  act! 

Of   those  connected   with   the  mob,  so  many 


292  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

have  died  suddenly  or  been  killed,  either  by  their 
own  hands  or  the  hands  of  others,  that  I  have 
heard  even  wicked  men  say  that  it  looked  as  if 
the  Almighty  had  followed  the  guilty  with  his 
judgments. 

After  Harding  and  others  had  been  shot  down, 
the  governor  sent  out  General  Dave  Cook,  a  de- 
tective. A  Mr.  John  McPherson,  who  had  a  club- 
foot,  and  did  not  go  around  with  the  mob,  but 
wrote  letters  to  papers  in  their  defense,  justifying 
them,  was  able  to  be  of  great  service  to  them,  by 
pouring  oil  on  the  troubled  waters,  and  contrib- 
uting to  the  impression  made  on  General  Cook's 
mind  that,  as  everything  had  quieted  down,  well 
enough  were  best  left  alone.  Whether  money  was 
used  I  do  not  pretend  to  say.  Some  affirmed 
that  while  the  leaders  were  manipulating  the  de- 
tective for  a  favorable  report,  Uncle  Jesse  Marion, 
whom  they  held  in  custody,  and  whom  they  had 
hung  once  or  twice,  managed  to  give  his  guards — 
who  were  so  much  interested  in  the  conference 
with  Cook,  that  they  left  him  for  a  few  minutes — 
the  slip,  and  taking  down  the  Arkansas  River, 
made  his  escape.  I  saw  him  after  he  got  to  the 
valley.  His  neck  was  yet  sore  from  the  rope. 
He  seemed  to  think  Mr.  Cook  would  not  have  been 
so  ready  to  report  favorably  if  it  had  been  his  own 
neck  that  was  sore. 

As  to  Mr.  McPherson's  accusations  about 
Brown's  Creek,  and  the  dishonesty  that  had  been 
unearthed  there  by  those  who  had  been  engaged 
in  setting  fire  to  a  house  over  women  and  little 


LAKE  COUNT*  OUTRAGES.      293 

children,  and  in  killing  men  and  hanging  others  to 
make  them  tell  what  they  wanted  told, — they  are 
not  worth  notice.  How  the  governor  could  recon- 
cile his  apathy  whilst  this  lawlessness  continued — 
during  which  ten  or  twelve  were  killed  outright, 
and  a  whole  county  terrorized — with  his  official 
obligations,  I  leave  the  reader  to  decide. 

When  spring  came,  Judge  E.  F.  Dyer  returned 
to  Lake  County.  Mr.  Marion — whose  escape  from 
the  mob,  after  having  been  run  up  by  the  neck,  is 
given  above — also  returned,  and  swore  out  warrants 
before  the  judge  for  all  who  had  taken  part  in  the 
outrage.  The  culprits  gathered  all  they  could — 
nearly  thirty  men — and  the  sheriff  with  them,  as 
he  in  character  as  well  as  ability  was  more  in  his 
element  with  a  mob  than  anywhere  else.  They 
came  with  guns  and  pistols,  and  entered  the  court- 
room armed.  The  judge  ordered  them  to  divest 
themselves  of  their  arms,  and  they  laid  them  off  in 
the  back-end  of  the  court-house ;  after  which  their 
cases  were  called.  Jesse  Marion,  the  principal 
witness,  and  others,  were  not  uninterested  spec- 
tators while  the  crowd  was  gathering.  From  what 
they  saw  and  heard  they  feared  to  go  to  the  trial, 
and  court  was  adjourned  till  eight  o'  clock  the  next 
morning  for  want  of  evidence.  The  judge  slept 
over  a  store,  with  some  others,  and  was  told  by  the 
sheriff  that  he  could  not  leave  that  night.  Mr. 
Gilland  was  there.  His  mule  was  watched  through 
the  night,  and  without  doubt,  if  he  had  attempted 
to  get  it,  he  would  have  been  shot.  He  was  ad- 
vised to  leave,  and  did  so,  slipping  out  over  the 


294  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

hill,  and  walked  to  Fair  Play,  through  the  mount- 
ains, twenty-five  miles,  and  reported  the  situation. 
At  eight  o'clock  court  was  called,  and  the  accused 
were  dismissed  for  lack  of  evidence.  They  all 
went  out.  Mr.  Hay  den  stopped  with  the  judge  a 
minute.  Some  one  called  him  down  on  purpose. 
He  went,  and  as  soon  as  he  left,  five  men  from 
the  crowd  went  up  the  stairs'  at  the  back-end  of 
the  building.  The  judge  was  sitting  in  an  office- 
chair,  and  three  or  four  shots  were  fired.  One 
ball  struck  the  chair,  another  went  through  his 
arm  above  the  wrist,  and  on  through  the  window. 
One  man  on  the  outside  heard  him  cry:  "Spare 
my  life!"  But  he  must  have  made  toward  them, 
and  been  caught  by  some  of  them  near  the  door, 
as  the  pistol  was  evidently  put  close  to  his  head — 
the  hair  being  all  burned  around  the  bullet-hole, 
which  was  just  behind  his  ear.  They  all  went 
down  the  steps,  and  mingled  among  their  crowd, 
which  was  waiting  for  them  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs.  A  man  looked  through  a  crack,  as  it  was 
a  log  house,  and  saw  the  tragedy,  and  was  the 
first  to  reach  him.  But  the  judge  never  spoke, 
and  breathed  his  last  in  a  few  minutes.  Another 
man,  Mr.  Woodard,  standing  above  on  a  bank, 
only  a  few  feet  away,  saw  them  come  out,  and 
knew  them  all.  He  was  imprudent  enough  to  tell 
what  he  saw,  and  not  long  after  was  shot  off  his 
horse  and  killed.  The  man  who  shot  him  re- 
sumed his  abode  with  the  mob.  It  was  called 
"self-defense."  So  it  was — to  the  mob. 

An  officer  was  called,  an  inquest  held,  a  ver- 


LAKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES.  295 

diet  rendered :  That  E.  F.  Dyer  came  to  his  death 
by  unknown  hands.  The  mob  terrorized  the  com- 
munity, for  only  about  half  their  number  were 
brought  by  a  warrant;  the  rest  came  armed  to 
prevent  those  accused  from  being  tried.  The  in- 
quest was  virtually  in  the  hands  and  interest 
of  the  mob. 

One  of  their  number  was  mysteriously  shot 
several  years  after  in  his  own  store.  I  will  nar- 
rate the  circumstances  as  I  heard  them.  He  had 
a  young  man  hired  to  herd  for  him,  said  to  have 
been  a  nephew  of  Mr.  Harrington,  the  first  man 
murdered  in  the  annals  of  the  mob.  He  came 
into  the  neighborhood  some  time  after  his  uncle 
had  been  killed,  and  was  heard  to  say  that  if  he 
ever  discovered  his  uncle's  murderer,  he  would  be 
avenged.  After  working  for  Mr.  Nathrop  for  some 
time,  he  quit,  and  went  to  the  store  to  settle,  and 
must  have  settled  with  Mr.  Nathrop.  He  was  the 
last  one  seen  in  the  store  before  Mr.  Nathrop's 
dead  body  was  found  lying  on  the  floor.  The 
young  man  rode  to  Buena  Vista,  a  few  miles  dis- 
tant, and  danced  most  of  the  night,  and  in  the 
morning  left  on  the  cars.  A  reward  of  several 
hundred  dollars  was  offered  for  his  arrest,  but  he 
has  not  been  heard  of  since.  He  could  easily 
have  been  taken ;  but  the  people  feared  that  Gibbs 
was  back,  hunting  his  oppressors.  The  mob  all 
feared  Gibbs  a  great  deal  more  than  they  did  the 
devil,  and  so  let  the  youth  escape.  Nathrop  was 
the  wealthiest  man  connected  with  the 
County  mob. 


296  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

My  son  was  murdered  at  eight  o'clock  A.  M.,  July 
3,  1875.  The  few  people  that  were  at  Granite 
buried  him  in  the  usual  place  of  interment,  where 
there  were  a  number  resting.  Among  them  was 
Brother  Rufus  L,umery,  an  itinerant  preacher,  who 
preached  to  us  at  my  house  when  Elias  was  four 
years  old.  But  I  was  not  satisfied  to  leave  him 
among  such  a  set  of  murderers.  So,  some  three 
years  after,  my  son  Samuel  and  my  son-in-law, 
C.  C.  Streetor,  went  with  a  wagon  nearly  one 
hundred  and  fifty  miles,  and  removed  his  body  to 
Bailey,  Colorado,  where  they  disinterred  my  fath- 
er's remains,  and  bore  both  bodies  to  Castle  Rock, 
Douglas  County,  and  buried  them  side  by  side.  I 
considered  this  our  duty.  But  unless  it  were  a  duty, 
I  would  never  do  so  again,  for  the  reason  that  it 
brings  all  the  feelings  of  a  father  or  a  son  back 
afresh.  I  learned  by  this  experience  that  a  me- 
tallic coffin  does  not  last  long.  Father  had  been 
buried  only  six  years,  yet  his  metallic  coffin  was 
rusted  full  of  holes.  The  other  was  pine,  and 
sound.  They  opened  it,  and  the  corpse  was  nat- 
ural— only  a  speck  of  mold  on  one  cheek.  God 
only  knows  how  hard  a  trial  this  terrible  tragedy 
was  to  me.  After  the  lapse  of  all  these  years,  the 
memory  of  it  rushes  over  me  like  a  flood.  Yet  I 
would  infinitely  rather  endure  my  suffering  than 
what  his  cruel  murderers  must  have  experienced. 
One  was  so  crazed  that  he  drowned  himself.  An- 
other had  what  was  called  the  "  horrors,"  and 
finally  miserably  died.  God's  curse  was  upon 
them  all.  Be  it  so! 


LAKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES.      297 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

LAKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES— CONTINUED. 

STRANGE  fascination  holds  me  to  this 
dreadful  scene.  No  wonder.  My  son,  edu- 
cated, bright,  wayward  it  may  be,  but  honest 
and  fearless — to  have  been  so  wickedly  torn  away 
from  me !  O,  the  weary,  weary  months  of  anguish ; 
the  alternate  flashes  of  revenge  and  forgiveness; 
the  bitter  struggles  between  wrath  and  mercy! 
God  have  pity! — even  now,  when  I  retrace  the 
efforts  to  traduce  his  character,  made  by  his  cow- 
ardly murderers,  my  old  blood  boils!  My  son 
was  not  perfect ;  but  his  sins  were  against  himself, 
and  his  last  letters  show  how  his  better  nature 
was  dominating. 

We  give  first  the  newspaper  report  of  the  foil- 
ing of  the  lynchers,  as  printed  in  the  Rocky  Mount- 
ain News: 

Elijah  Gibbs,  who  was,  last  October  [1874],  tried 
for  and  acquitted  of  the  murder  of  George  Harrington 
on  Coon  Creek,  in  June,  arrived  in  town  yesterday 
afternoon,  by  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Railway. 
He  had  telegraphed  to  Sheriff  Willoughby  to  meet  him 
at  the  depot ;  but,  the  latter  not  doing  so,  he  went  to  the 
store  of  W.  T.  Lambert,  who  is  a  connection,  to  whose 
house  he  proceeded  shortly  after.  About  seven  he 
went  over  to  the  jail,  where  he  intended  to  pass  the  night 
as  a  matter  of  precaution,  lest  some  of  his  friends,  the 
vigilantes,  might  be  lurking  about  Denver.  He  was 


298  SNOWTSHOE  ITINERANT. 

met  at  the  jail  by  a  News  reporter,  to  whom  he  gave, 
substantially,  the  following  narrative : 

I,ast  Friday,  about  midnight,  I  was  aroused  by  a 
party  of  men  coming  to  my  house,  and  knocking  and 
kicking  violently  at  the  door.  I  asked  who  was  there, 
and  was  answered  by  the  question :  "Is  Gibbs  at 
home?"  I  answered  I  was,  and  then  some  one  said: 
"  Get  up,  and  come  out ;  we  want  to  see  you." 
"Would  not  morning  do  as  well?'  I  asked.  "No, 
we  want  you  now.  We  will  give  you  ten  minutes  to 
get  out  of  the  house.  We  will  give  you  fifteen  to  get 
out  with  your  family.  If  you  are  not  quick  about  it, 
we  will  burn  you,  house  and  all." 

Gibbs  made  no  reply  to  this  cheerful  manifesto, 
and  the  party  then,  with  much  cursing  and  calling  of 
names,  went  around  to  the  north  side  of  the  house, 
where  they  began  making  preparations  to  fire.  The 
house,  apparently,  is  an  ordinary  log  cabin,  with  a  dirt 
roof,  the  door  and  one  window  being  on  the  south 
side.  The  assailants  tried  for  a  full  half  hour  to  get 
up  a  blaze;  but  the  logs, being  old  and  full  of  water,  did 
not  ignite  readily,  and  all  their  efforts  were  fruitless. 
Finally  they  knocked  the  dirt  off  the  roof,  and  en- 
deavored to  set  fire  to  the  thatch,  but  it  would  not 
catch,  and  at  last  they  gave  up  the  job  in  despair. 

Gibbs,  meantime,  had  been  unable  to  take  any  active 
part  in  the  drama  that  was  being  enacted  .owing  to  there 
being  no  window  on  the  side  which  was  being  fired.  At 
one  time,  he  thinks,  he  could  have  killed  two  men  who 
were  spying  around  the  south  side,  but  refrained  from 
doing  so,  as  he  wished  to  get  a  shot  at  a  man  named 
Coon,  who,  he  supposed,  was  the  leader,  and  they 
stood  in  the  way  of  his  fire.  Before  he  could  do  so, 
however,  Coon  got  out  of  reach,  and  then  the  party 
came  around  to  the  south  side  of  the  house,  and  began 
piling  hay  and  wood  against  the  door. 


LAKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES.      299 

When  they  got  a  pile  of  combustibles  about  four 
feet  high  together,  Sam  Boone  lit  a  match  and  was 
about  to  touch  it  off,  "when,"  says  Gibbs,  "I  shot 
him.  It  was  when  he  was  stooping,  the  match  in  his 
right  hand,  a  double-barreled  gun  in  his  left.  The  ball 
entered  here  [pointing  to  his  right  breast].  I  fired 
from  a  chink  in  the  boards  which  blocked  up  the 
window,  with  a  six-shooter.  Boone  was  about  eight 
feet  distant.  Boone  fell,  after  being  shot,  crying,  '  Boys, 
he  's  got  me.'  All  in  front  of  the  door  then  jumped 
back,  and  then  one  of  them  cried,  'Charge  on  the 
door.'  They  all  bunched  together,  when  I  fired  twice, 
hitting  two  men  in  the  legs.  The  gun  of  one  of  them 
went  off  as  he  was  falling,  killing  the  other  Boone. 
That  he  was  killed  in  this  way  is  shown  by  the  fact 
that  I  had  no  shot-gun,  and  fifty-four  shot  were  found 
in  his  body.  After  these  four  fell,  all  stampeded.  As 
they  started  to  run,  I  counted  eleven,  which,  with  the 
four  on  the  ground,  made  fifteen.  As  they  crossed  the 
fence  to  the  west  of  the  house,  I  fired  with  my  rifle, 
hitting  the  revolver  of  one,  but  not  hurting  him.  I 
then  told  the  women  I  would  save  their  lives  by  going 
to  my  father's,  who  lived  about  half  a  mile  to  the 
east,  in  a  direction  nearly  opposite  to  that  taken  by  the 
vigilantes.  We  got  there  safely,  told  him  what  had 
occurred,,and  he  sent  a  messenger  to  Brown's  Creek 
to  give  the  alarm.  In  about  an  hour  and  a  half  word 
came  that  help  was  at  my  house.  I  then  went  home 
and  found  thirty  of  my  friends  there,  who  told  me  I 
had  killed  and  crippled  three  men." 

Incidental  to  this  narrative,  Gibbs  said  that,  con- 
trary to  report,  he  had  no  knowledge  of  the  vigilantes' 
intentions,  or  he  would  have  had  his  friends  with  him 
when  they  came.  As  it  was,  he  was  alone  with  his 
family,  consisting  of  his  wife  and  three  children,  and 
a  Mrs.  Hutchinson,  who  had  one  child.  They 


300  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

remained  in  the  north  room  of  the  house,  which  was 
divided  by  a  partition  in  the  middle,  during  the  as- 
sault, and  were  comparatively  out  of  danger.  Illus- 
trative of  the  deadly  designs  of  the  attacking  party, 
the  next  morning  a  musket,  with  a  charge  that  meas- 
ured five  and  a  half  inches,  was  found,  together  with 
a  double-barreled  shot-gun,  containing  twenty-one 
buckshot  in  each  barrel.  After  Gibbs  and  his  friends 
had  discussed  the  situation,  the  former  went  over  to 
Brown's  Creek,  and  gave  himself  up  to  Constable 
Birchie,  who  guarded  him  till  Monday,  when  he  was 
examined  before  A.  B.  Corwin,  a  justice. 

Mr.  Corwin  was  present  during  the  foregoing  re- 
cital, and  here  gave  his  version  of  the  examination. 
He  said  that  Mrs.  Hutchinson  was  sworn,  and  told 
identically  the  same  story,  which  was  further  corrob- 
orated by  the  testimony  of  ten  of  the  surviving  vigi- 
lantes, who,  in  addition,  in  almost  as  many  words,  jus- 
tified Gibbs's  conduct.  The  result  of  the  examination 
was  that  Gibbs  was  dismissed,  on  the  ground  that  what 
he  had  done  was  done  in  self-defense. 

But  his  acquittal  did  not  help  Gibbs  much.  The 
sympathizers  in  the  sentiment  that  led  to  the  tragedy 
of  which  he  was  held  not  responsible,  resolved  not 
only  to  treat  him  as  responsible,  but  swore  that  the  jus- 
tice who  acquitted  him  should,  with  him,  experience 
the  fate  of  Haman.  It  was  not  pleasant,  either,  for 
Gibbs's  near  relatives  and  intimate  friends  to  be  around, 
about  this  time;  so  he  and  his  brother  William,  Justice 
Corwin,  and  one  Lewis  Gilliard,  made  up  their  minds 
to  make  a  virtue  of  necessity,  and  vamose  the  ranche. 
Accordingly,  after  the  trial,  which  was  over  while  the 
sun  was  yet  high  Monday  afternoon,  the  quartet, 
heavily  armed  with  a  brace  of  revolvers  and  a  double- 
barreled  shot-gun  apiece,  struck  out  for  Denver.  They 
had  got  but  about  fifteen  miles  on  their  journey,  when, 


LAKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES.     301 

on  the  edge  of  South  Park,  some  thirty  or  forty  men 
"ran  onto  them,"  as  Gibbs  expressed  it,  and  chased 
them  about  the  same  number  of  miles.  It  was  mid- 
night when  the  rencontre  took  place,  but  the  moon, 
then  not  much  over  the  full,  made  everything  as 
bright  as  day,  and  the  dark  forms  of  the  pursuers 
could  be  distinctly  seen  as,  spreading  out  in  the  form 
of  a  fan,  they  came  sweeping  across  the  plain. 

Gibbs's  first  move,  after  calling  on  the  rest  to  sepa- 
rate, was  to  run  down  a  gully  towards  the  east — they 
had  been  running  nearly  due  north — till  the  party  had 
passed  on.  His  brother  William,  who  had  been  the 
first  to  discover  them,  made  off  in  another  direction 
with  the  two  remaining,  and  soon  the  chasers  were 
left  some  distance  in  the  rear.  But  not  for  long. 
They  soon  came  dashing  up  again,  and  the  pursued 
quartet,  who  had  come  together  again,  were  obliged 
to  lighten  themselves  of  their  provisions,  blankets, 
surplus  clothing,  in  short,  everything  but  their  arms, 
to  make  good  their  escape  to  a  mountain  in  the  near 
distance,  where  they  resolved  to  stand  and  sell  their 
lives  as  dearly  as  possible.  Their  thinking  to  unload 
their  cargo,  however,  enabled  them  so  to  accelerate 
their  horses'  speed  that  the  alternative  was  not  needed, 
and  at  daylight  their  pursuers  were  left  far  behind,  as 
worn  out  and  hungry  they  rode  in  on  a  ranch  at  the 
head  of  Curran  Creek,  from  whose  owner  they  de- 
manded, in  Gibbs's  graphic  language,  breakfast,  food 
for  their  horses,  and  a  house  to  fight  in. 

The  two  former  were  soon  forthcoming,  and  then 
they  rode  on  till,  at  sundown,  they  arrived  at  Welters, 
in  Hayden  Park,  where  they  passed  the  night.  The 
next  day  they  deliberated  as  to  whether  they  would 
take  the  Bergen  Park  or  Colorado  City  road,  but  in  ac- 
cordance with  Gibbs's  own  suggestion,  they  finally  de- 
termined to  plunge  right  into  the  brush,  and  all  were 


302  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

soon  lying  along  the  sides  of  the  mountain  at  the 
head  of  Dead  Man's  Gulch.  They  heard  the  reports 
of  two  guns,  and  rocks  at  times  rolled  down  the  hill 
apparently  aimed  at  them ;  but  they  saw  no  more  of 
the  avengers  of  the  two  Boones.  When  about  fifteen 
miles  off  Colorado  City,  they  stopped  to  rest,  and 
passed  the  night  at  Welch's.  Yesterday  morning  they 
came  up  to  Summit,  where  they  left  their  horses  and 
took  the  train.  The  entire  distance  traveled  they  es- 
timated at  one  hundred  miles. 

Gibbs's  intention  is  to  return  to  his  ranch,  which  is 
some  seventy  miles  north-west  from  Canon  City,  when 
the  feeling  against  him  has  subsided.  He  has  one 
hundred  acres  under  fence,  and  sixty  in  a  good  state 
of  cultivation,  which  he  thinks  too  good  property  to 
be  scared  away  from  by  trifles.  Speaking  of  trifles, 
Gibbs  is  particularly  anxious  to  say  that  his  friends, 
the  lynchers,  did  not  humanely  wait,  as  was  reported, 
for  his  wife's  confinement  before  putting  their  plans 
in  execution.  She  is  at  this  moment  in  an  interesting 
condition,  and  the  fight  and  excitement  consequent 
upon  the  attack,  nearly  brought  a  premature  de- 
livery, with  all  its  attendant  consequences,  on  mother 
and  child. 

A  VIEW  FROM  THE  INSIDE. 

SOUTH  ARKANSAS,  COL.,  Jan.  30,  1875. 
REV.  J.  L.  DYER  : 

DEAR  SIR, — We  are  very  glad,  indeed,  to  receive  a 
letter  from  you.  I  almost  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that 
you  had  thrown  off  on  us ;  and  I  would  not  blame  you 
much  if  you  had  discarded  me  at  least,  for  you  know 
I  used  to  be  an  inveterate  joker,  and  not  always  very 
choice  of  language.  We  are  all  usually  well,  and 
pleased  to  know  that  you  and  yours  are  in  a  like 
condition. 

Times  here  have  been  very  exciting.     The  two 


LAKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES.      303 

Boones  and  Finly  Kane  were  killed.  Gibbs  escaped. 
The  pursuit,  the  forming  a  Vigilance  Committee,  the 
arrests  made  by  them,  the  reprimands  to  some  and 
the  expulsion  of  others,  the  arrest  of  C.  M.  Harding 
for  burning  Mr.  Cameron's  premises  and  horses — and 
still  not  yet  finished  up — has  kept  us  all  in  a  great 
commotion  and  excitement,  almost  up  to  the  highest 
pitch.  Mrs.  Hugh  Mahan  died  recently,  and  the  re- 
port is  that  the  present  excitement  was  the  sole  cause 
of  her  death.  Jake  Erhart  was  arrested ;  so  was  Fred 
Bertschey. 

Your  son  Elias  was  arrested,  and  invited  to  leave 
the  county  because  he  would  not  attend  more  strictly 
to  his  own  business,  but  on  every  occasion  would 
voluntarily  vindicate  the  character  of  Mr.  Gibbs,  so 
much  so  that  he  made  himself  odious  to  friend  and 
foe.  The  committee  requested  him  to  leave  for  the 
good  of  his  health.  Perhaps  he  has  seen  you  before 
now.  He  was  not  injured  personally,  though  his  feel- 
ings may  have  been  injured.  You  need  not  apprehend 
that  the  people  have  any  desire  to  do  any  personal 
violence  to  him,  though  they  did  choke  a  few  with  a 
rope ;  but  I  guess  they  will  live  through  it,  as  the  last 
seen  of  them  they  were  leaving  this  valley  as  if  they 
had  very  urgent  business  to  attend  to  on  the  other 
side.  Elisha  Gibbs  and  all  of  his  personal  friends 
made  their  escape. 

The  committee  have  unearthed  a  nest  of  fearful 
vipers.  You  would  hardly  believe  were  I  to  tell  you  the 
particulars  of  what  was  found  to  exist  in  the  shape  of 
a  secret  organization  for  the  purpose  of  preying  on  the 
people  by  cattle-stealing,  taking  up  estrays  and  brand- 
ing them,  branding  calves  that  belonged  to  their 
neighbors'  cows,  butchering  their  neighbors'  beef, 
slandering  their  neighbors,  and  what  not ;  and  then 
uniting  together  to  swear  each  other  clear;  and  all 


304  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

this  in  the  neighborhood  of  Brown's  Creek,  that  rob- 
bers' roost,  where  congregate  all  the  unclean  birds 
that  have  fouled  and  defiled  Lake  County  for  a  long 
time,  giving  her  a  bad  reputation  abroad  for  no  fault 
of  the  county  at  large. 

If  Gibbs  and  his  friends  have  any  regard  for  their 
lives  or  self-preservation,  they  will  never  return  to 
this  county.  No  doubt,  when  this  excitement  sub- 
sides, all  of  the  less  obnoxious  exiles  can  return  with 
safety.  It  would  only  be  a  waste  of  breath  for  any  one 
to  endeavor  to  convince  any  of  the  well-disposed 
citizens  that  Elijah  Gibbs  is  not  the  murderer  of 
George  Harrington,  or  at  least  contrived  and  aided  in 
the  act.  It  is  proven  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  that 
the  aforesaid  secret  organization  knew  more  or  less 
about  the  murder,  and  the  rope  is  none  too  good  for 
them.  If  the  trees  of  the  forest  would  be  made  to 
bear  fruit  this  winter  it  would  help  society,  at  least  in 
the  vicinity  of  Brown's  Creek,  amazingly.  The  people 
have  all  dispersed  and  gone  home,  to  be  called  out 
again  when  necessary;  and  I  assure  you  they  have 
done  a  good  work,  in  my  humble  opinion. 

Mr.  Henry  Skews  attended  the  funerals  of  the 
Boone  Brothers  and  that  of  Finly  Kane.  I  believe 
him  to  be  a  very  good  young  man,  but  very  nervous 
and  easily  excited. 

I  have  written  enough  for  this  time.  Please  write 
again.  Come  and  see  us,  and  bring  your  wife. 

From  your  ever  true  friend,    J.  McPnERSON. 

To  show  how  my  efforts  to  secure  law  and  or- 
der for  I^ake  County  were  received,  consider  this 
correspondence  to  the  Fair  Play  Sentinel: 

ORO  CITY,  February  23,  1876. 

EDITORS  SENTINEL,  —  A  mass-meeting  of  the 
citizens  of  Oro  City  and  vicinity  was  held  on  the  even- 


LAKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES.     305 

ing  of  the  2ist  ult.,  at  the  store  of  H.  A.  W.  Tabor,  for 
the  purpose  of  extending  to  the  Hon.  J.  Y.  Marshall 
the  congratulations  of  the  people  of  Lake  County  for 
the  able  and  satisfactory  manner  in  which  Mr.  Mar- 
shall discharged  his  duties  as  representative  of  the 
Eleventh  District. 

The  meeting  was  called  to  order  by  Wm.  McDer- 
mith,  who,  in  a  few  brief  and  appropriate  remarks, 
stated  the  object  of  the  meeting.  Captain  Sullivan  D. 
Breece  was  elected  chairman,  and  I.  P.  McCreagh 
secretary.  On  motion,  the  chairman  appointed  a  com- 
mittee of  three  to  draft  resolutions,  consisting  of  Major 
DeMary,  Maurice  Hayes,  and  I.  P.  McCreagh. 

The  following  resolutions  were  reported,  and 
unanimously  adopted : 

Resolved,  That  the  thanks  of  this  meeting  are  due,  and 
are  hereby  tendered,  to  the  Hon.  J.  Y.  Marshall  for  his  able 
representation  of  the  Eleventh  District  in  the  late  Legislative 
Assembly  of  the  Territory  of  Colorado,  and  in  particular  for 
the  important  service  rendered  by  him  to  the  citizens  of  Lake 
County  in  defending  their  rights  against  the  infamous  and 
nefarious  attempt  to  strip  them  of  their  privileges  and  make 
them  in  judicial  affairs  a  mere  appanage  of  another  county. 

Resolved,  That  we  hereby  express  our  unqualified  ap- 
probation of  the  conduct  of  our  representative  in  the  late 
Legislature,  the  Hon.  J.  Y.  Marshall,  and  assure  him  of  our 
firm  faith  in  his  integrity  and  ability,  and  with  feelings  of 
pride  and  pleasure  tender  him  our  warm  congratulations  and 
thanks.  (Signed),  H.  M  DEMARY, 

MAURICE  HAYES, 
I.  P.  MCCREAGH. 

The  secretary  was  then  ordered  to  send  copies  of 
the  proceedings  and  resolutions  to  the   Hon.  J.  Y. 
Marshall  and  the  Fair  Play  Sentinel  for  publication. 
On  motion,  the  meeting  adjourned,  amid  hearty  ex- 
pressions of  good-will  toward  the  Hon.  J.  Y.  Marshall. 

SULLIVAN  D.  BREECE,  President. 
I.  P.  McCREAGH,  Secretary. 
26 


306  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

The  following  was  clipped  from  the  News: 

Judge  Dyer,  probate  judge  of  Lake  County,  ar- 
rived in  the  city  last  evening.  He  left  Fair  Play 
Monday  morning,  and  rode  his  pony  to  Denver.  He 
was  met,  shortly  after  his  arrival,  by  a  News  reporter, 
to  whom  he  related,  in  easy  and  pleasing  language, 
the  exciting  particulars  of  the  recent  tragic  occur- 
rences on  Chalk  Creek.  From  his  recital — which,  by 
the  way,  is  only  confirmatory  of  the  account  tele- 
graphed the  News  on  Monday — it  is  apparent  that  the 
lower  end  of  Lake  County  is  at  the  mercy  of  a  mob, 
who  are  responsible  for  the  reign  of  terror  prevailing 
there  at  present. 

Judge  Dyer  stayed  at  J.  G.  Erhart's  last  Tuesday 
night.  He  had  been  down  into  the  San  Luis  Valley, 
and  was  going  to  Granite  to  hold  court.  Wednesday 
morning,  as  he  was  preparing  to  continue  his  journey, 
four  men,  armed  with  guns  and  revolvers,  and  mounted 
on  horses,  approached  and  ordered  him  to  accompany 
them.  They  acted,  of  course,  without  a  show  of  author- 
ity, and  carried  their  point  by  force,  jerking  the  judge 
a  little  when  he  demanded  to  see  their  warrant.  He 
was  taken  five  miles,  and  lodged  in  the  Chalk  Creek 
school-house.  He  was  not  alone,  for  others  had  been 
gobbled  up  in  the  same  way,  and  the  victims  were  in- 
creasing in  numbers  all  the  while.  The  prisoners 
were  removed  from  the  school-house  to  a  log  building 
near  by.  All  through  Wednesday  and  Thursday  the 
crowd  of  victims  was  continually  augmenting.  They 
were  being  gathered  in  by  the  guards  from  all  direc- 
tions. The  mob  had  runners  out  all  over  the  county. 
They  were  after  everybody  suspected  of  believing 
Elijah  Gibbs  innocent  of  the  murder  of  George  Har- 
rington. Citizens  were  marched  three,  four,  and  five 
miles,  over  hills  and  through  the  snow,  and  lodged  in 


LAKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES.      307 

this  improvised  calaboose.  It  was  a  sort  of  "  round- 
up," similar  to  the  cattle  "round-ups"  in  the  stock- 
growing  districts.  During  Wednesday  and  Thursday 
about  thirty  citizens  were  brought  in  as  prisoners  by 
the  mob. 

Meanwhile  an  inquisition  was  in  progress  in  another 
cabin  close  by.  The  court  was  run  by  a  lot  of  fellows 
styling  themselves  "  The  Committee  of  Safety." 
Twelve  men  were  impaneled  as  jurors.  There  was 
no  judge,  and  all  were  equally  officious.  Among  the 
so-called  jurors  were  Benjamin  Smith,  Benjamin 
Schwander,  William  Craft,  and  James  Demming,  the 
latter  county  treasurer.  John  D.  Coon  and  Josiah 
Weston  played  a  leading  part  in  the  prosecution.  The 
cabin  was  crowded  with  the  friends  of  the  court,  most  of 
them  armed,  and  a  guard  stood  at  the  door,  with  a  gun 
in  his  hand.  The  victims  were  examined  singly,  and 
each  was  sworn  to  secrecy,  not  only  as  pertained  to  the 
proceedings,  but  as  to  who  constituted  the  jury,  court, 
and  tribunal,  as  well  as  the  audience.  Among  those 
who  were  arraigned  on  Wednesday  and  Thursday 
were  Judge  Dyer,  J.  G.  Erhart,  Fred  Bertschey,  a  Mr. 
Evans,  Frank  Anderson,  Elias  Gibbs  (father  of  Elijah 
Gibbs),  Thomas  Morgan,  Leslie  and  Ernest  Christison, 
William  Richardson,  Dr.  J.  N.  Cowan,  Thomas 
Fletcher,  Jesse  Marion,  Thomas  Gilland,  Lewis 
Cowan,  Anderson  Geary,  John  and  Milton  Gibbs  (half- 
brothers  of  the  slayer  of  the  vigilantes),  and  a  Mr. 
Harding.  The  Gibbs  brothers  are  mere  lads,  aged 
thirteen  and  fifteen  years.  Mr.  Erhart  is  a  prominent 
and  much  respected  citizen,  who  represented  the 
county  in  the  Legislature  two  terms,  and  has  filled  the 
position  of  county  commissioner  several  years.  '  Frank 
Anderson  is  a  school-teacher,  and  Fred  Bertschey  is  a 
constable;  but  the  mob  paid  no  respect  to  position. 

The   principal    object    of   the    inquisition  was  to 


308  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

ascertain  whether  the  prisoners  sympathized  with  Eli- 
jah Gibbs.  Judge  Dyer  was  asked  if  he  thought  Gibbs 
innocent,  and  he  replied  emphatically  that  he  did. 
Some  of  the  victims  declined  to  answer  certain  ques- 
tions, and  they  were  ordered  by  the  court  to  be  hung 
up  by  the  neck  until  they  could  answer  more 
cheerfully  and  willingly.  Among  those  who  were 
brought  to  time  in  this  way  were  William  Richardson, 
Jesse  Marion,  and  Anderson  Geary.  They  were  raised 
from  the  floor  several  times,  and  were  finally  dis- 
charged. Judge  Dyer  was  discharged  from  custody 
Thursday  evening,  but,  finding  his  pony  gone,  was 
obliged  to  remain  in  the  neighborhood  over  night,  and 
the  next  morning  he  was  hauled  up  before  the  sham 
court  again.  After  consuming  some  time  in  a  re-ex- 
amination of  his  case,  he  was  handed  a  written  sen- 
tence, of  which  the  following  is  an  exact  copy: 

CHAI,K  CREEK,  LAKE  COUNTY,  "» 
January  29,  1875.          j 

JUDGE  DYER, — You  are  hereby  notified  to  resign  your 
office  as  probate  judge,  and  leave  this  county  within  thirty 
days,  by  order  of  the  Committee  of  Safety. 

The  judge's  pony  having  been  restored  to  him  in 
the  meantime,  he  rode  over  to  Trout  Creek  Friday 
evening,  and  was  accommodated  with  lodgings  at  the 
house  of  a  friend  named  Barney  McQuade.  Saturday 
morning  he  started  for  Fair  Play,  but  was  soon  halted 
by  a  couple  of  armed  guards,  who,  notwithstanding  he 
produced  his  passport,  in  the  shape  of  an  order  to 
"  git,"  were  determined  to  hand  him  over  to  the  in- 
quisition. Upon  promising,  however,  to  go  straight 
home,  he  was  allowed  to  pass,  and  he  continued  his 
journey  to  Fair  Play.  One  of  the  men  who  stopped 
him  is  named  Diedrick,  who  is  said  to  have  deserted 
from  the  army.  The  judge,  hearing  that  all  the  roads 
were  guarded,  to  prevent  anyone  from  escaping  and 


LAKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES.     309 

reporting  the  condition  of  affairs,  took  to  the  hills  and 
pineries,  and,  by  avoiding  all  ranches  and  stations, 
reached  Fair  Play  Saturday  night,  himself  and  pony 
panting  with  fatigue. 

Judge  Dyer  thinks  there  are  about  seventy-five 
persons  concerned  in  this  reign  of  mob-rule.  They 
are  all  residents  of  the  lower  end  of  the  county,  and 
the  strictest  measures  were  enforced  to  shut  out  com- 
munication with  the  people  of  California  Gulch,  by 
guarding  the  highways,  and  arresting  anyone  who 
attempted  to  pass.  Miss  Minnie  Simpson,  step- 
daughter of  the  elder  Gibbs,  was  stopped  by  a  guard 
while  on  the  way  to  the  post-office,  and  a  letter  which 
she  held  taken  from  her.  The  mob  have  also  seized 
and  destroyed  the  record  of  proceedings  in  the  ex- 
amination of  Hlijah  Gibbs  for  the  killing  of  the  vigi- 
lantes. John  Gilland,  an  old  man  who  is  seriously  ill, 
got  his  walking-papers  the  day  Judge  Dyer  got  his. 

Judge  Dyer  will  lay  the  foregoing  facts  before  his 
excellency,  Acting-Governor  Jenkins,  this  morning, 
accompanied  with  a  request  for  executive  interference 
for  the  restoration  of  peace  on  Chalk  Creek,  and  the 
protection  of  law-abiding  citizens. 

The  following  extract  was  clipped  from  a 
country  paper,  name  and  date  not  preserved.  It 
shows  the  spirit  of  the  vigilantes  and  their  sym- 
pathizers : 

A  gentleman  who  has  just  arrived  from  Lake 
County  informs  us  that  Gibbs,  the  assassin  of  Har- 
rington, has  returned  to  Lake  County,  and  has  with 
him  a  band  of  fifty  armed  roughs.  The  respectable 
portion  of  the  community  were  notified  by  parties  in 
Denver  that  Gibbs  was  about  to  return  to  revenge 
himself  upon  them,  and  they  have  organized  a  force 


310  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

of  one  hundred  men  fully  armed  to  resist  him.  Our 
informant  states  that  the  night  he  stopped  at  the  res- 
idence of  John  D.  Bale,  on  the  Upper  Arkansas,  it  was 
expected  that  an  attack  would  be  made  upon  the 
house  before  morning,  which,  however,  was  not  the 
case.  It  is  expected  that  a  collision  will  take  place 
between  the  two  parties  somewhere  near  Granite. 
The  sympathy  that  Gibbs  has  received  from  the  news- 
papers of  certain  portions  of  the  Territory  has,  of 
course,  induced  him  to  return  on  a  murdering  expe- 
dition. So  much  for  making  a  martyr  out  of  the  vilest 
cut-throat  that  ever  went  unhung. 

A  LETTER  FROM  JUDGE  DYER. 

CASTLE  ROCK,  Coi,.,  February  8,  1875. 
DEAR  PARENTS, — I  write  you  from  Sam's.  Came 
up  from  Denver  to  Clint's  last  night.  Am  intending 
to  go  back  to  Denver  to-morrow.  Have  had  a  terrible 
time  of  it,  but  begin  to  see  our  way  out.  Am  intend- 
ing to  proceed  against  them  for  attempted  assassina- 
tion, and  for  damage,  as  some  of  them  have  means. 
Gave  your  note  to  Sam,  and  what  McPherson  says. 
I  did  believe,  and  do  believe,  Gibbs  innocent  of  the 
crime  accused  of;  but  minded  my  own  business,  and 
did  nothing  but  my  duty  as  a  good,  law-abiding 
citizen,  and  nothing  but  what  a  Christian  might  do 
with  a  clear  and  approving  conscience.  I  have  done 
nothing  that  you  or  any  of  the  connection  need 
blush  for,  nor  what  you  would  not  have  felt  compelled 
to  do  under  the  same  circumstances.  I  am  proud  and 
glad  to  have  been  able  to  assist  the  suffering  innocent, 
even  in  as  humble  a  manner  as  I  did.  My  advice  and 
influence  has  been  after  the  teachings  of  Christ,  and  I 
feel  that  God  approves  all  my  words  and  acts  in  this 
matter.  I  feel  that  I  have  lost  and  suffered  more  than 


L,AKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES.  311 

the  rest  of  the  friends ;  but  I  believe  that  good  will 
come  of  all ;  and  I  have  learned  not  to  distrust  God  or 
his  ways,  but  have  full  confidence  that,  somewhere  in 
all  the  boundless  future,  he  will  make  all  even,  and 
give  me  that  rest  for  which  I  long.  The  path  of  duty 
is  the  path  of  safety.  I  feel  it,  and  shall  act  ac- 
cordingly. Many  good  people  are  praying  for  me  and 
my  work ;  and  they  can  do  no  more,  for  their  hands 
are  tied.  I  pray  constantly  to  be  able  to  work  with- 
out fear,  and  with  malice  toward  none. 

Will  be  to  see  you  as  soon  as  I  can,  but  can  't  say 
exactly  when;  but  in  the  meantime,  believe  me,  I 
will  endeavor,  by  the  help  of  God,  to  do  all  my  duty 
and  nothing  wrong. 

If  you  have  the  time  to  write  a  line  to  Denver,  it 
would  reach  me. 

Yours  very,  very  truly,    EUAS  F.  DYER. 
All  of  us  are  together  to-day. 

ANOTHER  LETTER  FROM  THE  JUDGE. 

GRANITE,  May  30,  1875. 

DEAR  PARENTS, — I  received  yours  this  morning, 
and  have  to  say  was  made  very  glad  thereby.  Have 
not  written  fully  because  I  could  not;  did  not  know 
myself.  Have  been  from  one  end  of  the  county  to 
the  other  since.  Just  got  around  last  night.  Prob- 
ably your  dream  may  signify  a  fact.  We  are  divided 
as  to  course  of  action.  I  was  and  am  ready  to  issue 
warrants,  though  I  do  not  think  it  advisable;  but  un- 
less others  will  swear  them  out,  I  do  not  feel  justifiable 
in  issuing  them  on  my  own  responsibility.  All  my 
reasons,  or  our  reasons  rather,  I  can  not  give  on 
paper;  but  it  does  not  take  much  of  a  stretch  of 
imagination  to  guess  a  good  many  of  them. 

I  met  but  one  mobite  in  the  lower  end  of  the 
county.  They  are  all  afraid,  and  many  of  them  are 


312  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

leaving.  This  is  the  worst  point  in  the  case.  Too 
many  of  the  bad  characters  will  get  out  of  the  coun- 
try. Perry  Hutchinson,  Ira  Wing,  and  Smith  Steele 
have  cowed  them.  The  mob  had  a  meeting,  and 
voted  to  kill  four  of  our  men.  Perry  went  to  the  lead- 
ers, and  told  them  that  when  the  first  trouble  was 
made,  every  one  of  the  mob  would  be  killed  like  dogs. 
They  denied  any  knowledge  of  the  affair,  and  said  if 
any  wrong  was  done  they  would  be  as  innocent  of  the 
matter  as  he.  He  told  them  it  did  not  make  any  dif- 
ference ;  they  were  the  men  he  and  his  friends  would 
kill  first.  So  they  are  in  a  terrible  predicament. 

We  may  be  too  slow,  but  I  try  to  do  justice  to  all. 
God  forbid  that  I  should  act  from  malice,  or  put  my 
feelings  before  the  judgment  he  has  given  me.  I  am 
not  very  pious  yet — not  so  much  so  as  I  hope  to  be — 
but  there  are,  and  always  have  been,  some  principles 
of  rectitude  born  in  me  which  I  fear  to  do  violence  to. 

If  we  are  too  slow  and  easy,  I  will  be  the  sufferer ; 
but  my  conscience  will  be  clear.  If  a  man  errs  in 
judgment,  God  may  forgive,  fyut  men  never  do.  If  a 
man  errs  from  conscience,  God  can  scarcely  forgive ; 
men  always  do,  if  he  succeeds.  So  that  you  may  see 
that  I  know  where  I  stand,  and  that  I  comprehend  the 
situation.  However  it  may  turn  out,  I  will  get  many 
curses  and  but  little  commendation,  but  know  that  I  do 
not  weaken. 

With  many  considerations  of  respect  for  judgment 
and  action,  Your  son,  ELIAS  F.  DYER. 

JAMES    H.   JOHNSTON'S    LETTER    INFORMING    THE 
JUDGE'S  FATHER. 

GRANITE,  LAKE  COUNTY,  Coi,.,  July  3,  1875. 
REV.  JOHN  L.  DYER  : 

DEAR  SIR, — It  becomes  my  painful  duty  to  inform 
you  of  the  death  of  your  son  Elias  F.  Dyer,  by  the 


LAKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES.      313 

hand  of  an  assassin  or  assassins,  at  about  half-past 
eight  o'clock  this  morning.  He  had  just  adjourned  his 
court,  and  lingered  behind  the  crowd,  and  by  so  doing 
he  lost  his  life.  He  was  killed  in  the  court-room,  shot 
through  the  head  and  arm ;  but,  strange  to  say,  no 
one  knows  who  did  the  deed.  Some  parties  were 
there  in  a  moment,  but  he  could  not  speak,  and  only 
breathed  a  few  times.  The  citizens  here  are  so 
shocked;  and  I  myself  am  the  same,  so  that  I  can 
scarcely  write.  An  inquest  was  held,  but  nothing  that 
showed  any  light.  He  will  be  buried  to-morrow.  We 
will  bury  him  as  well  and  decently  as  we  can. 

You  all  have  my  heart-felt  sympathy  in  this  your 
sad  bereavement.  If,  after  calming  down,  I  find  out 
anything  further,  I  will  let  you  know. 

Elias  left  two  letters  with  me.  He  had  a  notion  he 
would  be  killed,  I  think,  and  probably  in  the  letters  he 
has  given  you  some  idea.  One  of  the  letters  is  ad- 
dressed to  you,  the  other  to  Miss  L,oella  Streator.  I 
will  mail  them  all  now. 

Iij  sorrow,  yours  truly,  JAMES  H.  JOHNSTON. 

The  following  is  the  letter  written  by  the  judge 
on  the  morning  of  his  murder: 

GRANITE,  JUI^Y  3,  1875. 

DEAR  FATHER, — I  do  n't  know  that  the  sun  will 
ever  rise  and  set  for  me  again,  but  I  trust  in  God  and 
his  mercy.  At  eight  o'-clock  I  sit  in  court.  The  mob 
have  me  under  guard.  Mr.  Gilland  is  missing  this 
morning,  but  I  do  not  think  harm  has  befallen  him. 
God  bless  you,  my  father,  in  your  old  age,  and  in  Sam 
and  his  boy — in  all  your  children — but  you  know  John 
bears  the  name.  Bless  him  and  his  forever,  O 
my  God ! 

My  love  to  all  friends,  and  I  say  I  am  proud  to 
be  your  son.  There  is  no  cowardice  in  me,  father.  I 

27 


314  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

am  worthy  of  you  in  this  respect.  God  comfort  you 
and  keep  you  always.  I  am,  in  this  one  respect,  like 
Him  who  died  for  all ;  I  die,  if  die  I  must,  for  law, 
order,  and  principle ;  and,  too,  I  stand  alone. 

Your  loving  and  true,  and,  I  hope  in  some  respects, 
worthy  son,  EUAS  F.  DYER. 

The  Rocky  Mountain  News,  two  days  later, 
contained  the  following  dispatch  from  Fair  Play: 

This  place  is  the  scene  of  terrible  excitement  over 
a  tragedy  that,  used  as  all  are  here  to  deeds  of  blood, 
strikes  the  entire  community  with  a  horror  not  felt  for 
many  a  long  day.  The  feud  which  has  divided  Lake 
County  into  two  factions,  each  equally  lawless,  although 
one  purporting  to  be  the  representative  of  order  and 
legal  authority,  ever  since  the  shooting  of  Harrington 
by  Elisha  Gibbs  over  a  year  ago,  which  resulted  in  the 
night  attack  on  Gibbs's  house  on  the  22d  of  last  Jan- 
uary, to  the  mortal  harm  of  two  of  the  assailants,  and 
the  final  running  of  Gibbs  out  of  the  country,  has  cul- 
minated in  the  murder  of  Judge  Dyer,  of  the  Probate 
Court  of  this  county,  for  no  other  crime,  apparently, 
than  endeavoring  to  do  his  duty.  The  particulars,  as 
near  as  I  have  been  able  to  collect  them,  are  as  follows: 
Dyer  had  issued  sixteen  warrants  for  the  arrest  of  the 
members  of  the  so-called  Committee  of  Safety,  and 
deputized  Doctor  Dobbins  to  arrest  them.  The  latter 
returned  the  warrants,  saying  he  had  showed  them  to 
one  Burnett,  but  had  no  means  of  bringing  him  to 
Granite.  Dyer  then  deputized  a  man  named  Sites,  who 
proceeded  to  carry  out  the  order.  He  went  immedi- 
ately to  Brown  Creek,  and  arrested,  first,  Burnett,  and 
afterwards  Chaffin,  a  ringleader  of  the  Safety  Com- 
mittee faction,  and  a  man  named  Moore.  Sites  then 
went  up  the  river  to  make  other  arrests,  and,  on  re- 
turning to  Brown  Creek,  met  Weldon,  the  sheriff  of 


LAKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES.      315 

Lake  County,  who  told  him  to  give  him  the  warrants, 
as  he  could  make  more  arrests  in  one  day  than  he 
(Sites)  could  in  three  weeks.  Sites  gave  him  the  war- 
rants, and  last  Friday  evening  the  sheriff  of  Lake 
County,  with  about  thirty  armed  men,  came  to  Granite 
a  little  before  dark.  The  mob  took  Dyer  to  the  court- 
room. Fifteen  or  twenty  citizens  followed,  but  were 
ordered  back.  What  transpired  in  the  court-room  no 
one  knows.  When  Dyer  came  out  he  was  very  pale. 
He  immediately  went  to  Johnson's  store,  and  wrote  a 
letter.  That  night  he  was  guarded,  and  the  next 
morning  the  mob  again  took  him  to  the  court-house. 
A  few  moments  after  entering  they  came  out,  but 
shortly  afterwards  they  returned,  and,  as  they  were 
passing  up  the  stairs,  four  shots  were  fired.  One  ball 
struck  Dyer  on  the  arm.  When  he  found  himself 
wounded,  he  begged  for  his  life;  but  the  assassins  fin- 
ished him  by  shooting  him  in  the  head  at  the  back  of 
the  right  ear,  the  ball  lodging  beneath  the  left  eye- 
brow. He  lived  fifteen  minutes,  and  was  conscious, 
but  unable  to  speak.  While  Dyer  lay  weltering  in 
his  blood,  and  in  the  death  agony,  John  D.  Coon,  a 
ringleader  of  the  mob,  bent  over  him,  exclaiming, 
"What  a  horrible  murder!"  which  sentiment  is  re- 
echoed by  the  men  hereabouts,  who  are  aching  to  hang 
Mr.  Coon  for  his  share  in  the  crime.  I  will  endeavor 
to  collect  further  details  of  subsequent  occurrences  as 
I  shall  be  able  to  gather  them,  but  do  so  at  the  peril 
of  my  life,  if  any  of  the  Committee  of  Safety  learn  of 
my  taking  such  action. 

We  extract  from  a  country  paper,  in  the  in- 
terests of  the  mob,  the  following: 

E.  F.  Dyer,  late  probate  judge  of  Lake  County,  has 
been  killed.  He  was  well  known  to  have  been  the 
associate  and  defender  of  midnight  assassins,  incen- 


316  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

diaries,  and  thieves,  and  to  have  been  the  vilifier  of  the 
unfortunate  wife  of  his  friend  Gibbs's  victim.  He  was 
requested  to  leave  the  county  by  a  Vigilance  Commit- 
tee, composed  of  its  best  citizens.  He  returned,  and 
more  than  likely  nothing  more  would  have  been  said 
about  the  matter,  had  he  not  on  his  own  responsibility 
issued  warrants  for  the  arrest  of  a  party  of  men  far 
honester  and  more  respectable  than  himself.  Some- 
body shot  this  sneaking  scoundrel,  and  now  the 
Denver  press  raise  a  great  hubbub  about  the  death 
of  this  injured  innocent,  and  the  governor  offers  a 
reward  of  two  hundred  dollars  for  the  discovery  of 
that  friend  of  the  people  who  finished  Dyer's  earthly 
career. 

Now  let  us  draw  another  picture.  A  Negro  is 
captured  by  the  police  of  Denver,  supposed  to  be 
guilty  of  burglary ;  he  is  tortured  to  make  him  con- 
vict himself,  and  suddenly  disappears  under  circum- 
stances more  than  suspicious.  He  is  said  to  have 
escaped  from  two  well-armed  officers.  Bah!  Every- 
body thinks  that  unfortunate  Negro  was  murdered 
by  the  officers  of  the  law  while  trying  to  extort  a 
further  confession  from  him.  Why  is  not  this  mur- 
der investigated  ?  Where  is  Governor  Rouatt's  reward 
for  this  Negro's  murderer,  and  why  is  it  that  but 
one  Denver  newspaper  is  independent  enough  to 
talk  freely  about  the  affair?  The  motes  in  our 
neighbor's  eyes  are  always  larger  than  the  beams 
in  our  own. 

Come,  gentlemen  of  the  Denver  press,  bring  a 
pressure  to  bear,  and  let  us  have  an  investigation  as 
to  who  killed  that  Negro.  The  sins  of  the  citizens 
of  other  portions  of  the  Territory  are  freely  discussed 
in  your  ably  edited  sheets;  now  let  us  hear  about  the 
misdeeds  of  your  own  officers  of  the  law. 


LAKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES.      317 

ANOTHER  LETTER  FROM  McPHERSON. 

SOUTH  ARKANSAS,  Coi,.,  September  5,  1875. 
REV.  J.  L.  DYER  : 

DEAR  SIR, — It  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  written 
to  you — not  since  your  last  one  to  me;  and  that  one 
I  thought  a  little  rough.  It  would  not  be  rough  for 
publication ;  but  written  to  me  personally,  I  could 
not  see  where  it  fitted  at  all,  as  I  took  no  hand  in  any 
of  the  troubles,  pro  or  con,  whatever  may  have  been 
my  views;  and  my  opinion  was,  and  is  now,  .that 
Gibbs  knew  all  about  the  killing  of  Harrington;  and 
I  so  expressed  myself.  A  man  can  not  help  his  con- 
victions, and  you  yourself  can  not  condemn  a  person 
for  his  honest  convictions,  even  if  they  sometimes 
prove  erroneous. 

Never  having  mixed  with  our  troubles,  last  winter 
or  since,  why  was  I  spotted  by  your  son  for  arrest, 
which  is  seen  on  his  docket?  but  I  did  not  know  until  after 
his  death  that  I  was  marked  for  one  of  his  victims. 

I  merely  remarked  that  I  did  not  mix  myself  up 
in  the  trouble;  and  I  will  qualify  that  remark  by  say- 
ing, that  when  United  States  Deputy  Marshal  Cook 
came  in  here  last  winter,  I  did  go  down  to  Mr.  Bale's 
to  see  him,  where  I  found  a  large  crowd  who  came  for 
the  same  purpose,  some  of  whom  were  still  hostile  to 
the  Gibbs  faction.  Some  said:  "This  thing  has  gone 
far  enough.  Let  us  old  fellows  try  and  stop  it,  and 
have  no  more  of  it." 

Among  those  taking  this  view  of  the  case,  and 
favoring  peace,  and  opening  the  door  to  let  the  exiles 
return  to  their  respective  homes,  thus  putting  things 
back  where  they  were  before,  were  old  Mr.  Spaulding, 
Sheriff  Weldon,  John  Burnett,  Peter  Caruth,  Joseph 
Hutchinson,  Mr.  Newman,  Noah  Baer,  Thomas  Cam- 
eron, myself,  and  a  number  of  others.  Mr.  Bale  did  not 
make  his  appearance  at  the  meeting,  but  said  it  was  all 


318  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

right,  and  that  he  had  no  confidence  that  the  exiles 
would  return  and  keep  quiet.  But  the  balance  of  us 
concluded  it  best  to  give  them  a  show.  Many  of  them 
returned,  and  were  not  molested  in  the  least. 

I  am  afraid,  Mr.  Dyer,  that  the  best  counsel  your 
son  was  taking  at  Denver  proved  his  death,  for  he  no 
doubt  acted  after  the  counsel  of  older  and  more  ex- 
perienced heads  than  his  own.  Be  that  as  it  may,  he 
was  killed  in  the  court-roon — as  I  am  informed,  for  I 
was  not  there — no  doubt  by  one  or  two  fanatics.  The, 
people  did  not  kill  him,  nor  do  I  believe  that  any  person 
of  sound  mind  supposed  that  the  people  had  any  hand 
in  his  murder.  Then,  why  are  the  whole  population 
of  Lake  County  threatened  that  they  will  be  bush- 
whacked? "Punish  the  guilty"  is  a  law  of  human 
nature;  but  why  wreak  vengeance  on  the  innocent? 

Ninety-nine  hundredths  of  the  people  of  Lake 
County  deplore  the  death  of  your  son,  and  also  de- 
plore the  action  of  the  Committee  of  Safety  last 
winter.  For  my  own  part,  the  news  of  your  son's 
death  struck  me  with  horror  and  consternation.  I 
thought  of  his  poor  bereaved  father.  I  am  a  father, 
and  can  imagine  what  your  feelings  were;  and  I  pray 
to  God  that  I  may  be  preserved  from  a  like  situation  ! 
A  son  shot  down  like  a  dog  by  the  bullet  of  a  secret 
assassin  or  assassins  is  awful  even  to  think  of.  All 
these  things  are  sure  to  come  to  light  sooner  or  later. 
"Vengeance  is  mine,  and  I  will  repay,  saith  the  Lord." 
Crimes  never  go  unpunished;  but  the  good  Lord  does 
not  always  square  his  accounts  in  a  minute.  He  takes 
his  own  good  time,  and  his  ways  are  not  as  our  ways. 
Your  son's  murderer  or  murderers  will  be  found  out 
and  punished,  sooner  or  later. 

We  are  told  that  Gibbs  and  his  friends  intend  to 
come  in  here  and  bushwhack.  Well,  suppose  they  do, 
and  kill  a  few,  or  burn  the  buildings  of  one  or  two 


L,AKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES.  319 

citizens.  The  consequence  would  be  that  a  reward 
would  be  offered  for  Gibbs  dead  or  alive,  and  the 
people  here  will  contribute,  if  necessary,  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  over  and  above  what  the  county  would 
give,  besides  the  Territorial  reward;  and  the  conse- 
quence would  be  that  Gibbs  and  his  band  would  all 
be  gobbled,  and  many  innocent  people  suffer.  I  do 
not  know  that  even  yourself  would  be  very  safe. 

Recollect,  I  am  only  supposing  what  would  be  the 
condition  of  things  were  such  a  thing  to  take  place, 
knowing  the  fearful  determination  of  the  people  here 
to  repel  an  invasion,  either  secret  or  public.  But  I  can 
safely  assure  you  that  no  one  will  be  molested  here 
who  is  peaceable  and  attends  to  his  own  affairs;  but 
the  stirrer  up  of  strife  and  midnight  assassin  will  not  be 
safe  here.  It  appears  so,  at  least.  But  do  not  infer  from 
this  that  I  indorse  mob-law,  for  I  assure  you  I  do  not. 

I  understand  you  had  secretly  paid  this  county  a 
visit ;  but  wre  did  not  see  you  in  this  end  of  the  county. 
I  assure  you  that  you  would  be  as  welcome  as  ever, 
and  you  always  have  been  welcome  at  our  house,  what- 
ever you  may  have  thought  to  the  contrary  recently. 

Remember  us  kindly  to  your  family.  My  wife 
desires  to  be  kindly  remembered  to  you,  and  you 
have  her  heart-felt  sympathy  in  your  recent  great  be- 
reavement. Yours,  as  ever,  very  respectfully, 

J.  McPnERSON. 

Mr.  McPherson  was  appointed  probate  judge. 
The  mob  took  the  lead  in  this  selection,  and  also 
in  that  of  the  grand  jury.  The  first  panel,  they 
were  afraid,  was  not  surely  for  them.  Directly  it 
was  lost.  One  of  the  men  said  he  could  give 
every  name,  and  he  proceeded,  leaving  out  two  or 
three  whom  they  did  not  want,  substituting  others 
in  their  place. 


32O  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

Mr.  George  Henderson  administered  on  my 
son's  estate.  It  was  thought  that  one  thousand 
dollars  would  pay  all  debts.  I  sold  his  interest 
in  the  Dyer  Mine  to  H.  A.  W.  Tabor  for  three 
thousand  dollars,  in  three  payments.  The  first 
payment  was  covered  by  claims,  which  we  allowed. 
When  the  second  and  third  payments  were  ready, 
bills  just  covering  them  were  conveniently  at 
hand.  It  was  too  plain.  I  sent  to  the  adminis- 
trator for  the  last  accounts,  and  knew  that  some 
of  them  were  unjust,  and  suspected  the  balance. 
Samuel — my  only  surviving  son — took  Judge 
dough,  a  good  attorney,  and  they  went  over  and 
looked  into  the  business.  Judge  McPherson  and 
the  claimants  were  very  saucy.  Judge  Clough 
showed  where  they  had  all  overreached  or  failed 
to  go  according  to  law,  and  the  administrator  and 
his  securities  could  be  held  responsible.  He  pro- 
posed to  remove  the  case  to  another  county,  and 
proceed  against  them.  This  scared  them,  and 
they  dropped  all  claims,  and  let  the  estate  be 
closed  up  at  once.  Judge  Clough  afterwards  told 
me  that  they  had  counted  close,  for  their  bills 
were  just  a  thousand  dollars — exactly  covering 
the  payment. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  I  have  never  taken 
active  steps  to  bring  my  son's  murderers  to  jus- 
tice. The  combination  of  the  guilty  and  their 
friends  was  very  strong,  as  the  facts  above  recited 
plainly  show.  To  have  successfully  combated  it 
would  have  required  more  money  than  I  could 
command.  Besides,  the  county  was  comparatively 


LAKE  COUNTY  OUTRAGES.      321 

poor,  and  the  trials  would  have  entailed  large 
costs,  so  that  the  tax-payers  dreaded  and  discour- 
aged the  prosecution.  But  after  the  Leadville 
boom,  when  the  county  had  grown  rich  and  strong, 

encouraged  by  Mr. Hayden,  one  of  my  son's 

best  friends,  and  who  was  the  last  with  him  be- 
fore the  murder,  I  fully  purposed  to  make  the  at- 
tempt. The  mob,  however,  never  ceased  to  fear; 
and  so  influenced  the  division  of  the  county,  and 
had  Chaffee  set  off,  in  which  once  more  they  were 
in  the  majority. 

It  is  not  likely  they  will  ever  in  this  world  be 
brought  before  any  tribunal,  save  that  of  their 
own  consciences.  But  murder,  unlike  debt,  is 
never  outlawed.  Detectives  have  taken  interest 
in  it.  It  may  be  that  vengeance  is  only  sleeping. 


322  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

OUR  WORK  ENLARGED. 

OUR  conference  for  1876  was  held  at  Boulder 
City,  by  Bishop  Harris,  a  good-spirited 
Christian  gentleman.  I  had  great  respect  for  him 
as  a  clear-headed  man.  He  was  always  chosen 
secretary  of  all  deliberative  bodies  of  which  he 
was  a  member.  When  things  got  twisted  up,  he 
had  a  way  of  untangling  them  speedily  and  pleas- 
antly. While  we  had  a  few  moments  of  talk  at 
the  conference,  he  said  to  me :  "  I  see  you  have 
had  hard  work  the  year  past,  as  well  as  trouble; 
and  you  are  talked  of  for  a  charge  where  you  will 
have  to  move  one  hundred  miles  by  wagon.  I 
will  not  direct  a  man  as  old  as  you  are  to  move 
so  far,  without  at  least  asking  him  if  he  is  willing 
to  go."  I  suppose  it  was  the  more  noticeable,  be- 
cause it  had  never  been  said  to  me  on  this  wise 
before. 

I  was  sent  to  Fair  Play  and  Alma,  and  had  sev- 
eral preaching-places  besides.  It  was  quite  a  cir- 
cuit, and  Brother  A.  J.  Smith  was  appointed  by 
the  elder  to  travel  with  me.  He  gave  promise  of 
being  a  good  helper;  but  after  a  month  or  two, 
owing  to  business  complications,  left  me  to  take 
charge  of  a  ranch,  and  I  had  another  year  with 
plenty  to  do.  The  year  previous,  the  work  was 
almost  ruined  by  bickerings  and  trouble.  It  took 


OUR  WORK  ENLARGED.  323 

the  most  of  this  year  to  make  peace.  We  had 
but  little  advance  in  Church  matters.  An  eight- 
days'  meeting  at  Alma  resulted  in  good.  I  lived 
six  miles  distant,  and  rode  home  after  service,  for 
lack  of  invitation  to  stay.  One  night  I  paid  my 
fare  at  a  hotel.  The  next  day  some  one  found 
how  it  was,  and  gave  them  a  talk.  That  night  I 
had  about  forty  hearers,  and  three  invitations  to 
stay.  This  was  the  thaw  that  broke  the  ice. 
Hospitality  has  abounded  ever  since. 

I  had  a  famous  climb  up  Mt.  Lincoln.  Mine 
after  mine  had  been  opened  in  that  region.  The 
Dolly  Varden,  working  quite  a  force ;  the  Moose, 
with  scores  of  miners ;  the  Russia,  with  twenty, 
and  at  the  base  of  the  mountain  was  Dudley,  a 
village  with  a  furnace.  A  number  of  preachers, 
including  some  bishops,  had  passed  that  way, 
wonder-hunting;  but  apparently  the  thought  of 
preaching  to  the  cliff-dwellers  never  entered  their 
minds.  It  was,  indeed,  an  achievement  to  ascend 
Mt.  Lincoln,  one  of  the  highest  Rocky  Mountain 
peaks.  One  large  company  of  climbers  had  put 
their  names  in  a  box  which  they  had  elevated  on 
a  tall  "  liberty  pole."  Governor  Bross  was  so  en- 
thused that  he  sang  the  doxology.  Thenceforth 
the  boys  called  one  peak  of  Lincoln,  Mt.  Bross. 

I  concluded  that  I  would  go  up  and  preach. 
On  Tuesday  I  started  on  foot  five  miles  to  the  first 
mine.  Just  as  I  got  above  timber,  the  wind  met 
me  with  a  heavy  squall  of  snow,  and,  although  it 
was  some  time  till  night,  the  air  was  soon  so  thick 
with  snow  that  I  could  not  see  from  one  telegraph- 


324  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

pole  to  another.  I  wished  the  wire  had  been  put 
six  feet  from  the  ground,  then  I  could  have  held 
to  it.  As  it  was,  I  felt  along  the  wagon  ruts,  and 
could  only  go  a  few  feet  at  a  time  without  bracing 
myself  on  my  pole,  and  resting  for  breath.  It  was 
almost  impossible  to  make  headway  against  the 
wind  and  snow  coming  down  the  mountain. 

The  road  went  close  to  the  dump  of  the  Dolly 
Varden  mine  and  the  shaft-house  and  boarding- 
house.  It  was  so  dark  I  could  not  see  even  the 
dump;  but  as  I  turned  my  face  back  to  rest,  I 
had  got  past  the  house  and  above  the  dump.  I 
thought  the  house  must  be  close.  I  saw  the 
sparks  come  out  of  the  chimney,  and  was  only 
three  rods  from  it.  My  face  was  dripping  with 
thawing  snow,  and  my  strength  nearly  exhausted. 
I  was  let  into  Mr.  Hall's  room,  the  superintendent 
of  the  mine.  He  seemed  surprised  that  I  had  got 
through,  although  he  had  given  out  the  appoint- 
ment for  me.  He  made  me  welcome,  and  as  I 
started  into  the  dining-room,  surprised  me  by 
putting  a  five-dollar  bill  into  my  hand.  I  tried 
to  preach  to  eleven  hearers.  Ten  of  the  number 
each  laid  down  a  dollar  on  the  table,  and  that, 
too,  without  being  asked. 

The  next  day  I  called  at  the  Moose  mine, 
where  there  were  sixty  men.  I  told  the  cook  I 
was  on  a  preaching  excursion,  and  would  be  there 
the  next  night  to  talk  to  them.  He  said  he  would 
tell  the  men.  I  went  on  to  Australia,  the  highest 
mine  worked,  within  three  hundred  feet  of  the  top 
of  Mt.  Lincoln,  where  I  found  twenty  men.  I  had 


OUR  WORK  ENLARGED.  325 

a  good  visit  with  the  superintendent,  and  preached 
to  them.  They  were  very  attentive  and  respectful, 
but  forgot  to  carry  around  the  hat.  On  my  way 
back,  I  preached  to  about  forty-five ;  had  good  at- 
tention, and  when  the  benediction  was  pronounced, 
one  of  the  number  passed  a  hat,  and  took  up  six- 
teen dollars.  Before  this,  the  storm  was  over,  and 
I  was  ready  to  go  home  to  Fair  Play. 

We  give  this  trip  in  full,  as  it  was  the  first 
preaching  on  Mt.  Lincoln.  I  was  back  several 
times;  but,  otherwise,  services  have  been  few.  I 
want  to  say  here,  that  in  my  experience  of  almost 
twenty-seven  years,  I  do  not  remember  an  instance 
where  a  miner  or  prospector  came  to  my  preach- 
ing who  did  not  behave  himself;  and  I  predict 
that  that  mountain  will  be  mined  for  a  century  to 
come.  I  continued  on  this  circuit  till  the  close  of 
the  year,  preaching  nearly  four  times  a  week  all 
over  Park  County,  and  a  few  times  in  Summit. 

There  was  one  occasion  when  the  snow  was 
quite  deep.  It  was  at  the  time  of  a  wedding, 
when  Mr.  Charles  Walker  and  Mrs.  Miller  were 
married,  about  fourteen  thousand  feet  above  the  sea- 
level.  It  was  at  a  saw-mill.  My  old  friend,  Mr. 
Hoope,  with  Gilbert  Havens  and  others,  were  on 
hand,  with  a  double  bob-sled.  When  we  got  well 
up  in  the  timber,  we  met  a  four-horse  team  and 
sled.  On  either  side  were  logs  and  snow,  five 
feet  high.  I  thought  to  pass,  but  we  could  not. 
Neither  sled  could  back.  A  collision  seemed  to 
be  inevitable.  Bight  horses  were  between  the 
sleds.  Fortunately,  the  company  that  met  us  had 


326  SNOE-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

the  couple  with  them,  they  having  despaired  of 
my  arriving  on  time.  They  got  out,  and  the  boys 
unhooked  the  horses,  lifted  the  sled  up  on  its  edge, 
got  the  horses  back,  uncoupled,  turned  around,  and 
got  us  to  the  house  a  little  late,  but  all  right. 
The  couple  were  yoked  in  matrimonial  bonds  in 
the  presence  of  a  jolly  set  of  boys,  and  of  one 
lady  besides.  This  was  nearer  the  stars  than  any 
wedding  I  had  ever  witnessed.  The  couple  still 
live  and  love  each  other;  and  by  that  we  may 
suppose,  the  higher  the  place,  the  better  the  wed- 
ding. The  groom  was  so  well  pleased  that  he 
handed  me  twenty-five  dollars.  That  marriage  in 
those  mountain  woods  was  a  grand  social  time, 
never  to  be  forgotten,  and  that  too  without  whisky, 
fiddle,  or  dancing. 

At  the  conference  of  1877  I  asked  for  a  super- 
numerary relation,  which  the  brethren  granted. 
But  I  preached  occasionally,  and  made  my  own 
living.  I  held  this  relation  till  the  conference  at 
Pueblo,  in  1879,  when  I  was  made  effective,  and 
appointed  to  Breckenridge  Circuit.  I  had  spoken 
of  that  county,  and  its  need  of  a  preacher,  but 
when  I  heard  my  name  read  out,  with  no  mission- 
ary appropriation,  to  an  entirely  outside  and  new 
work,  I  felt  hurt.  To  be  sent  to  the  hardest  cir- 
cuit at  my  time  of  life,  and  not  on  an  equal  foot- 
ing with  other  preachers  of  the  conference,  was 
rough  on  me,  and  unfeeling  in  those  who  sent 
me.  But  my  old-time  loyalty  stood  me  in  hand, 
and  I  concluded  to  go  and  do  the  best  I  could 
for  a  year. 


OUR  WORK  ENLARGED.  327 

The  cabinet  named  the  circuit  after  the  county, 
and  the  presiding  elder  did  not  know  where  to 
address  a  letter  to  me.  Probably  he  did  not  know 
the  size  of  the  county,  which,  beginning  forty-five 
miles  west  of  Denver,  extends  to  Utah,  and  north 
to  Wyoming.  Since  then  seven  counties  have 
been  made  out  of  it ;  and  in  all  of  them  there  are, 
at  this  writing,  only  two  preachers  of  our  Church, 
and  they  are  supplies. 

I  had  been  only  four  weeks  on  the  circuit  when 
the  Ute  Indians  killed  Father  Meeker  and  several 
others,  took  his  wife  and  daughter  prisoners,  and 
scared  almost  everybody,  so  that  many  settlers 
left.  The  excitement  crossed  the  range ;  for,  some- 
how, people  will  get  more  excited  and  run  quicker 
in  an  Indian  scare  than  they  would  if  Lucifer 
was  right  in  sight.  For  instance,  at  Alma,  when 
the  people  were  badly  perplexed  what  to  do,  a 
man  got  some  whisky  in  him,  and  concluded  to 
give  the  people  a  scare.  So  he  shot  a  hole  in  his 
coat,  and  rode  through  town,  crying  at  the  top  of 
his  voice :  "  The  Indians  are  coming,  two  or  three 
hundred  strong!  Everybody  will  be  killed!" 
The  men  were  frightened,  and  began  to  gather 
the  teams  to  carry  passengers;  every  horse,  mule, 
and  jack  was  bridled  and  saddled.  Pack-saddles 
were  in  demand.  Women,  frantic  with  fear,  used 
every  sort  of  conveyance ;  scarcely  bonneted,  they 
rode  sometimes  two  on  a  pony,  not  particular  if 
both  feet  were  not  'on  one  side.  Many  also  went 
on  foot.  The  motley  crowd  whipped  past  each 
other,  their  eyes  almost  popping  out  with  fear, 


328  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

all  bound  for  Fair  Play.  Before  they  got  there, 
the  people  of  Fair  Play  had  heard  the  news,  and 
leaving  their  houses,  fled  to  the  big,  stone  court- 
house. But  here  were  coming  all  of  the  popula- 
tion of  Alma.  And  now  the  women  wanted  a  fort 
built  of  the  cord-wood,  and  some  of  the  men  to 
go  and  see  if  the  Indians  were  near.  None 
doubted  but  they  were  near.  And  now — before 
the  volunteer  scouts  could  start — see  husband  and 
wife  embracing  each  other,  as  they  supposed  for 
the  last  time  on  earth;  and  some  on  their  knees 
praying,  that  had  never  been  seen  to  pray  before ! 
The  reason  of  all  this  was  that  they  believed  the 
report  that  the  Indians  were  just  behind,  with 
tomahawk  and  scalping-knife. 

I  have  always  thought  if  an  old-fashioned 
evangelist  had  been  there  he  might  have  had  a 
profitable  prayer-meeting.  "But,"  says  a  friend, 
"I  don't  believe  in  excitement."  But  I  do;  a 
man  or  woman  must  be  excited  enough  to  start 
them  in  any  cause.  Men  must  believe  there  is 
danger,  or  they  will  not  start.  This  is  the  reason 
that  our  Savior  gave  the  awful  doctrine  of  damna- 
tion without  repentance,  as  well  as  all  the  invita- 
tions of  the  gospel.  Both  the  threatenings  and 
persuasions  must  be  presented.  Hence,  convic- 
tions are  slight,  and  conversions  are  not  so  clear 
as  they  ought  to  be,  when  our  preachers,  instead 
of  showing  a  sinner  his  danger,  "snugly  keep 
damnation  out  of  sight."  I  hold  that  a  minister 
ought  to  present  both  sides,  so  that  the  sinner 
shall  fear  the  torments  of  hell  as  much  as  he 


OUR  WORK  ENLARGED.  329 

desires  the  glories  of  heaven.  Many  will  never  come 
unless  they  are  first  alarmed. 

But  to  return.  The  Indians  were  not  within 
a  hundred  miles.  The  news  reached  Governor 
Pitkin  at  Denver,  that  they  had  burned  Brecken- 
ridge  to  ashes.  He  telegraphed  to  some  one  to 
send  men  across  the  range  to  see  if  it  wras  so. 
They  came  in  the  night.  We,  being  in  the  out- 
side cabin,  heard  a  noise,  but  did  not  know  what 
made  the  stir;  and  it  being  election-day,  supposed 
that  to  be  the  cause.  So  we  slept  well,  while 
guards  were  being  put  out  down  Blue  River  to 
protect  the  town.  Several  of  the  women  and  chil- 
dren were  sent  to  Denver.  And  all  the  while  the 
Indians  were  keeping  themselves  as  far  off  in  the 
south-west  as  possible. 

Father  Meeker,  as  he  was  familiarly  called, 
was  a  man  of  good  mind,  and  everybody  that 
knew  him  loved  him.  He  was  progressive,  and 
did  all  he  could  for  the  first  colony  at  Greeley. 
Then  he  was  led  to  try  to  civilize  the  Ute  Indi- 
ans— a  worthy  project,  but  in  advance  of  the  time. 
To  begin  with,  the  Indians  had  never  been  sub- 
dued or  whipped.  Every  once  in  awhile  they 
would  kill  a  white  man,  and  manage  to  get  off. 
As  in  any  other  sinner,  so  is  human  nature  in 
them ;  unless  they  fear,  they  will  destroy.  The 
government  of  course  made  a  raid  on  them;  lost 
more  men  and  mules  and  money  than  they  did 
harm  to  the  Utes.  Still  they  scared  them  into 
giving  up  prisoners  -and  land,  and  surrendering 
two  or  three  bucks.  Government  did  little  or 

28 


330  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

nothing  with  the  bucks;  yet  murders  that  they  had 
committed  were  worth  more  than  the  lives  of  the 
whole  tribe. 

It  has  always  looked  to  a  Western  man  that  the 
Eastern  people  cared  more  for  the  filthiest  red-skin 
than  for  a  decent  white  man.  They  seemed  to 
forget  that  the  soil  on  which  they  themselves  raise 
their  bread  had  been  taken  from  the  "  poor  In- 
dians." 

Our  white  population  got  over  their  scare,  and 
came  back,  and  all  was  quiet  again.  During  all 
this  time  we  kept  up  our  appointments  in  about  a 
dozen  mining-camps.  The  snow  fell  deep.  Our 
stages  went  on  runners,  hauled  by  four  horses.  I 
rode  at  half  fare.  The  line  from  Georgetown  by 
Loveland  Pass  to  Leadville,  with  its  branches,  car- 
ried me  to  most  of  the  camps.  The  stages  were 
generally  full,  and  to  be  turned  over  and  all 
thrown  out  into  the  snow  was  not  uncommon.  I 
was  overset  seven  times  during  the  winter,  but, 
through  the  goodness  of  God,  was  not  hurt.  I 
went  over  as  far  as  Carbonateville,  Robinson,  and 
Kokomo,  south-west,  and  to  Decatur,  north-east. 
In  January  my  wife  was  taken  down  suddenly  with 
neuralgia  in  the  head,  and  her  life  was  almost 
despaired  of  for  a  week ;  but,  by  God's  mercy  and 
Dr.  Hendrick's  skill  and  good  care,  she  came 
through  all  right  in  a  month,  so  that  I  could  go 
around  again  on  my  work. 

In  February  I  held  a  protracted  meeting  in 
Kokomo.  The  first  night  I  finally  found  lodging 
at  an  inn.  After  traveling  most  of  the  day  and 


OUR  WORK  ENLARGED.  331 

preaching  at  night,  I  was  weary,  and  was  shown 
to  my  room.  There  was  a  small  room  near  by, 
with  a  stove  and  table  and  cards.  The  door  be- 
tween was  partly  open.  Soon  two  young  couples 
came  up,  and  began  a  game  of  cards.  They  were 
full  of  noisy  fun.  Evidently  the  boys  beat,  and  I 
supposed  the  game  was  what  they  called  smut,  as 
the  girls  would  not  stand  the  application,  and  ran 
up  the  hall,  the  boys  after  them.  I  supposed  they 
smutted  them,  and  went  back  and  at  it  again.  I 
got  no  sleep  till  after  midnight.  In  my  reflections 
it  was  a  serious  matter  to  think  how  I  could  suc- 
ceed under  such  usage  as  this  ;  but  I  concluded  to 
hold  on  and  try. 

I  got  some  needed  sleep  and  rest  toward  morn- 
ing ;  breakfasted,  and  paid  my  bill.  The  snow 
was  six  feet  deep.  I  started  out  to  visit  families 
and  bachelors'  cabins.  Several  said  if  they  had  a 
place  to  keep  me  I  would  be  welcome.  I  came  to 
a  Mr.  Thomas,  a  Welsh  Congregationalist.  I 
thought  he  was  better  than  our  Yankees  of  the 
same  Church.  I  went  into  his  cabin,  six  feet  high 
at  the  eaves  ;  snow  all  arottnd  and  six  feet  on  top. 
There  were  steps  in  the  snote^tp  get  out  to  the 
street.  He  had  a  spare  mattress  irKpne  corner  on 
the  floor,  which  he  offered  me  if  I  woulcSnot  be  in- 
sulted by  it.  I  told  him  the  past  night's  ex- 
perience, and  that  his  mattress  would  be  most 
grateful. 

At  this  place  I  made  my  abode  for  two  weeks, 
eating  with  the  bachelors  and  among  the  people, 
visiting  in  the  daytime,  and  preaching  every  night 


332  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

to  an  average  of  seventy-five  people.  A  constant 
storm  prevailed.  I  formed  a  society  of  sixteen ; 
one  or  two  joining  by  letter,  and  some  from  other 
denominations.  In  the  spring  they  built  quite  a 
chapel  for  the  place.  But  owing  to  the  town's 
decline,  it  is  now  out  of  use. 

From  there  I  went  back  to  Breckenridge,  which 
shortly  experienced  a  characteristic  mining  boom.- 
A  report  was  spread  that  about  Breckenridge  were 
immense  bodies  of  gold  quartz  and  carbonates, 
three  feet  deep.  People  of  all  classes  came  across 
the  range,  and,  of  course,  the  inevitable  dance- 
house,  with  degraded  women,  fiddles,  bugles,  and 
many  sorts  of  music,  came  too.  There  was  a 
general  hubbub  from  dark  to  daylight.  The 
weary  could  hardly  rest.  Claims  were  staked  out 
everywhere,  and  the  prospector  thought  nothing 
of  shoveling  five  feet  of  snow  to  start  a  shaft. 
Saloons,  grocery-stores,  carpenter-shops,  and  every 
kind  of  business  sprang  up,  including  stamp-mills 
and  smelters.  All  classes  were  excited  beyond 
all  good  sense.  Town-lots,  that  could  have  been 
bought  before  at  twenty-five  to  fifty  dollars, 
brought  fifteen  hundred  dollars.  Corrals,  log- 
heaps,  and  brush-thickets  were  all  turned  into 
town-lots.  Those  owning  ground  thought  it  worth 
ten  times  more  than  it  was.  The  excitement  was 
almost  as  great  as  when  they  thought  the  Indians 
were  coming.  The  preacher  thought  it  time  to  se- 
cure a  lot  for  a  church.  He  canvassed  all  the 
town ;  but  none  had  a  lot  to  give.  One  was  offered 
away  out,  but  was  refused.  Giving  a  back-lot  for  a 


OUR  WORK  ENLARGED.  333 

church  had  played  out  with  me.  In  the  fall  I 
bought  a  lot  and  a  cabin.  It  was  about  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet  deep  by  fifty  wide.  The  Town 
Company  undertook  to  change  the  survey  and 
take  about  two-thirds  of  it  from  me  under  pre- 
tense that  the  county  had  a  claim  on  it.  They 
even  undertook  to  fence  k  up ;  but  when  they  be- 
gan, I  began  too.  I  hired  men  to  put  in  posts ;  but 
as  soon  as  I  turned  my  back  they  came  to  my  men, 
within  forty  feet  of  my  house,  and  told  them  they 
would  send  an  officer  and  arrest  them.  My  hands 
quit.  After  dinner  I  went  to  digging  post-holes 
myself.  The  Town  Company's  representative 
came  with  two  witnesses,  and  warned  me  to  stop 
work.  I  never  laid  down  my  pick,  but  told  him 
I  was  a  man,  and  a  law-abiding  man  at  that,  and 
his  were  as  good  witnesses  as  I  wanted;  and  I 
warned  him  before  them  to  keep  off  my  lot  and 
to  leave.  By  this  time  the  witnesses  started,  and 
he  followed.  He  was  the  company's  commis- 
sioner; and  was  very  good  when  he  found  he 
could  not  bulldoze  me.  I  gave  half  my  lot  to  the 
trustees  to  build  a  church  on.  We  carried  a  sub- 
scription paper  till  I  got  enough  to  start  on ;  and 
went  to  the  saw-mills,  got  all  the  lumber  I  could, 
and  we  went  to  work  and  put  up  a  house  twenty- 
five  by  fifty  feet,  posts  sixteen  feet  high,  and  in- 
closed it.  I  nailed  the  first  shingle,  and  did  more 
work  on  it  than  any  other  man. 

While  I  went  to  conference  the  friends  finished 
the  roof  and  put  the  floor  down ;  and  the  next 
Sunday  we  had  service  in  the  first  church  on  the 


334  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

Western  Slope  in  our  conference,  with  a  good  or- 
gan. We  had  had  no  aid  as  yet  from  the  Church 
Extension  Society,  which  gave  two  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  after  I  left.  This  was  a  year  of  toil, 
and  no  pay  to  speak  of — about  two  hundred  dol- 
lars was  all;  and  I  paid  traveling  expenses,  and 
did  more  hard  work  than  I  ever  did  before,  take 
it  altogether.  I  left  about  thirty-five  members. 
Including  the  lot,  the  church  cost  me  all  of  three 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars. 

In  1877  I  was  made  supernumerary.  At  the 
conference  held  by  Bishop  S.  M.  Merrill  at 
Pueblo  in  1879,  mY  relation  was  changed  to  ef- 
fective, and  I  was  appointed  to  Breckenridge. 
The  year's  work  I  have  already  related.  At  its 
close,  the  conference  was  held  by  Bishop  H.  W. 
Warren  at  Georgetown,  in  the  fall  of  1880.  It 
was  an  enjoyable  session.  It  was  the  bishop's 
first  conference.  Feeling  the  pressure  of  years 
and  labors,  I  asked  and  was  granted  a  superan- 
nuate relation. 

I  returned  to  Breckenridge,  where  the  boom 
had  begun  in  March.  In  about  a  year  most  of 
the  excitement  in  town-lots  had  passed  over;  and 
in  eighteen  months  building  had  quit,  and  not 
long  after  a  fire  burned  a  block,  and  the  camp  went 
down.  There  has  been  no  building  since  to  speak 
of,  and  town-lots  have  gone  back  as  fast  as  they 
went  up. 

As  conference  gave  me  no  help,  and  the  people 
but  little — the  members  being  poor — I  put  in  all 
my  time  at  work  in  some  way.  Being  well 


OUR  WORK  ENLARGED.  335 

acquainted  with  the  mountains  and  mining,  I  was 
paid  good  wages  for  locating  claims.  When  the 
snow  was  deep,  I  went  on  snow-shoes,  always 
feeling  that  a  preacher  had  a  right  to  earn  his 
living  if  he  could  not  get  it  by  preaching;  but  no 
right  to  leave  his  charge.  I  could  preach  three 
and  four  times,  and  work  three  or  four  days  in  the 
week.  In  fact,  I  sometimes  earned  more  by  moon- 
shine labors  than  I  could  by  preaching.  In  the 
summer  of  this  year  my  wife  boarded  some  men, 
and  helped  in  that  way. 

Brother  J.  F.  Coffman  followed  me.  Conference 
gave  him  two  hundred  dollars  to  start  with.  He 
staid  three  years,  and  having  the  office  of  school 
superintendent,  made  out  to  live.  The  unsettled 
condition  of  mining-camps  is  unfavorable  to  the 
keeping  up  of  religious  societies. 

My  practical  knowledge,  as  before  stated,  made 
my  services  as  a  locater  in  demand.  Some- 
times I  gave  them  to  deserving  young  fellows, 
whom  fortune  had  used  roiighly.  Two  such  were 
Candell  and  Thompson.  In  the  spring  of  1880 
they  came  to  me  for  information.  Snow  was  more 
than  knee-deep.  They  were  out  of  money,  ex- 
cept enough  to  board  them  a  few  days,  and  put 
up  a  log  pen,  ten  or  twelve  feet  square,  just  large 
enough  for  them  to  stand  up  in  and  make  a 
stopping-place.  The  next  thing  was  a  job  of 
work.  I  was  employed  to  sink  holes  on  some 
claims,  to  hold  them,  and  gave  them  employment. 
I  bought  tools  for  them,  and  we  started  up  the 
mountains,  I  leading.  Soon  the  trail  gave  out, 


336  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

and  we  broke  a  path  in  snow  waist  deep.  We  car- 
ried picks,  shovels,  tent,  and  blankets.  It  was  hard 
climbing  for  the  boys;  but  they  said:  "If  that  old 
man  can  get  there,  we  must."  And  we  did.  I 
showed  them  where  to  dig.  That  day  they  had  a 
shaft  three  feet  deep,  and  slept  in  it  at  night. 

They  worked  for  some  time,  making  fair 
wages — say  three  dollars  per  day — and  then  they 
and  myself  took  up  some  ground  in  company. 
They  also  continued  to  work  and  prospect  for 
themselves  through  the  summer.  Thompson 
found  some  float  mineral,  and  followed  it  up  to 
where  it  came  up  to  the  grass  roots,  and  sunk  a 
hole  on  it  ten  feet  deep,  and  threw  out  several 
hundred  pounds  of  rich  mineral,  gray  copper, 
worth  five  hundred  dollars  to  the  ton.  He  staked 
his  claim — one  hundred  and  fifty  by  one  thousand 
five  hundred  feet.  He  did  not  know  how  rich  it 
was,  and  let  one  Parkison  have  a  fourth  interest 
for  one  hundred  dollars,  and  would  have  sold  the 
balance  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  but  his 
man  failed  to  come  to  time.  He  kept  the  location 
a  secret.  I  had  not  asked  him  where  it  was,  but 
said:  "You  have  got  on  my  claim,  I  suspect." 
He  replied:  "You  have  no  claim  up  there."  I 
answered:  "I  prospected  up  there  three  years  ago, 
and  left  my  shovel  to  hold  my  claim."  "Where 
is  your  claim?"  he  said.  I  inquired  if  he  had  been 
at  the  head  of  a  certain  ditch.  "Yes,"  was  his 
answer.  "Well,"  I  replied,  "my  claim  crosses 
about  thirty  rods  above  that."  "My  claim,"  he 
said,  "is  not  within  three  hundred  feet  of  that." 


OUR  WORK  ENLARGED.  337 

I  rode  up,  and  found  my  shovel;  and  just  up 
the  hill-side  I  saw  his  corner  stake,  and  followed 
to  his  works.  I  was  pleased  with  his  show  for  a 
lode,  and  was  glad  for  his  sake.  Seeing  the 
ground  was  vacant  on  each  side  of  his  claim, 
before  I  left  I  staked  one  claim  south  and  four 
north  of  it.  Unable  to  do  the  work  myself,  I  took 
two  or  three  pieces  of  his  ore  home  with  me,  and 
told  an  assay er  where  it  came  from,  and  that  I 
had  staked  the  ground  adjoining;  and  as  I  had 
to  attend  to  my  church  building,  proposed  to  let 
him  go  in  with  me,  if  he  liked  the  show;  he  to  do 
my  work  for  an  interest.  He  went,  and  was  pleased, 
and  we  made  a  contract.  He  looked  at  Mr. 
Thompson's  prospect,  and  wanting  some  one  to  do 
the  work,  I  suggested  Thompson,  as  he  would  want 
to  keep  an  eye  on  his  own  claim.  He  said  nothing 
about  buying  the  claim.  When  Thompson  came 
in  to  our  house,  I  told  him  they  wanted  to  see  him ; 
and  knowing  that  he  had  offered  his  claim  for  two 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  advised  him,  if  they 
wanted  to  buy  him  out,  not  to  sell  for  nothing. 
My  wife  named  a  thousand  dollars,  as  it  was  easier 
to  fall  than  to  raise.  He  went  and  asked 
them  twelve  hundred;  but  they  offered  him  a 
thousand,  ten  per  cent  down,  and  the  rest  in  sixty 
days.  He  returned  in  a  few  minutes  with  his  hun- 
dred dollars,  and  said  it  was  the  first  time  he  had 
ever  had  that  much  at  once.  Then  they  wanted 
to  see  Mr.  Parkinson,  but  told  Thompson  not  to 
tell  how  he  sold.  Mrs.  Dyer  said:  uYou  tell  Mr. 
Parkinson  to  come  here  as  he  goes,  and  I  will  post 

29 


338  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

him."  He  came,  and  then  sold  his  fourth  for  five 
hundred  dollars,  ten  per  cent  down.  There  were 
four  of  the  company,  and  so  they  had  the  big  thing, 
and — by  doing  the  work  agreed  on — three-fourths 
of  mine  also. 

The  ore  was  very  rich — from  low  grade  to  a 
thousand  dollars  a  ton.  But  one  of  the  parties  as- 
sayed some  of  it,  and  showed  me  the  certificate. 
It  was  so  low  that  I  never  said  a  word  to  Mr. 
Thompson  about  it.  I  was  disappointed  in  it.  If 
anybody  knew  it  was  rich,  it  was  those  who  bought 
it.  In  a  day  it  was  all  over  the  camp  that  the  boys 
had  been  swindled,  the  ore  being  fabulously  rich. 
And,  as  a  matter  of  course,  the  discoverers  felt  bad 
over  the  loss  of  a  good  thing.  Everybody  asked  why 
they  did  not  have  it  assayed.  Because  they  had 
no  money  to  pay  on  a  risk,  as  but  very  few  had 
received  any  benefit  by  the  assays,  and  many  con- 
sidered it  money  out.  Parties  told  them  they  were 
swindled,  and  that  the  sale  could  be  set  aside, 
and  that  on  certain  conditions  they  would  have  it 
done.  What  those  conditions  were  I  never  knew. 
They  were  not  to  have  anything  except  they  could 
prove  fraud,  and  so  get  the  property  back.  So 
they  went  to  law. 

I  had  been  asked  by  the  assayer  if  I  wished  to 
have  some  of  the  Warrior's  Mark  ore  assayed.  I 
replied:  "No;  I  have  no  interest  in  the  lode." 
Afterwards  he  called  me  in  and  showed  me  his 
report  on  it,  and  it  was  lower  than  I  had  thought 
possible.  I  thought  no  more  about  it  at  the  time, 
until  after  the  sale.  When  they  had  me  on  the 


OUR  WORK  ENLARGED.  339 

witness-stand,  they  questioned  me  as  to  the  assay 
I  had  seen.  I  told  them  what  I  knew  of  it. 
"Did  you  tell  either  of  the  parties  before  the 
sale?"  "No."  "Why  did  you  not  tell  them?" 
"Because  I  was  taken  back,  and  thought  it  would 
do  them  no  good."  This  showed  that  they  were 
not  influenced  by  the  assay.  So  the  purchasers 
held  the  diggings,  and  the  poor  boys  got  no  more. 
They  were  advised  to  compromise  with  the  first 
party,  but  they  would  not. 

Now  the  company  go  to  work,  but  soon  winter 
is  on,  and  snow  anywhere  from  five  to  eight  feet 
deep.  Some  good  mineral  was  raised;  but  the 
water  was  strong,  and  they  concluded  to  sell. 
The  price  was  put  at  three  hundred  thousand 
dollars  for  the  whole,  including 'my  interest.  I 
was  to  have  eight  thousand,  five  hundred.  About 
the  ist  of  January,  1881,  I  began  work  on  a  log 
house.  Had  a  good  horse  and  sled,  six  miles 
away,  at  Breckenridge.  Selected  a  place  to  build, 
and  taking  my  horse,  with  chain  and  whiffle-tree, 
went  eight  rods,  mid-sides  in  snow,  and  dragged 
in  the  first  tree.  And  so,  cutting  and  hauling 
logs,  and  going  back  home  each  day,  returning  to 
work  in  the  morning  with  lumber,  I  finished  my 
house.  It  was  seventeen  feet  by  seventeen,  a  story 
and  a  half  in  height,  shingle  roof,  two  floors,  and 
doors.  By  the  I9th  of  February  I  moved  my  wife 
and  the  last  of  our  goods.  By  that  time  I  had  a 
hole  against  the  bank  in  the  snow  to  stable  my 
horse.  Laid  poles  on  the  snow,  and  put  pine- 
brush  for  roof,  and  he  was  comfortable  till  his  slab 


340  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

stable  was  built.  We  were  within  a  half  mile  of 
the  Warrior's  Mark  Lode,  which  was  the  center 
of  attraction  for  mining  experts  and  speculators. 
Men  would  corne,  and  look,  and  send  experts;  and 
then  others  would  come.  All  wished  to  make 
money.  Some  would  levy  blackmail,  under  threats 
of  spoiling  the  sale.  After  all  the  efforts,  the 
property  was  not  sold. 

The  weather  becoming  good,  they  hired  a  super- 
intendent and  about  fifty  men,  and  resumed  work. 
In  six  months  they  took  out,  as  well  as  I  could 
learn,  between  seventy-five  and  eighty  thousand 
dollars.  During  this  time,  they  stocked  the  prop- 
erty at  three  millions.  After  one  dividend,  it 
failed  to  pay  any  more  for  a  time  under  the  man- 
agement. I  took  ten  thousand  dollars  in  stock  for 
my  part.  At  this  time  I  began  to  look  at  the 
stock  system,  and  concluded  to  let  that  be  the 
last  stock  I  would  ever  have  anything  to  do  with 
in  mining.  For  these  reasons :  First,  the  amount  is 
put  at  three  times  its  worth;  second,  there  are 
directors,  clerks,  and  treasurer,  president,  superin- 
tendent, and  bosses,  all  on  pay,  besides  the  hands. 
These,  with  mismanagement,  wire-working,  whisky, 
cards,  and  fancy  women,  beat  the  average  lode. 
After  several  attempts  to  get  pay  out  of  the  mine, 
a  man  took  the  property  to  work.  He  had  secured 
more  than  half  the  stock,  and  had  the  control. 
He  bought  mine.  I  realized  two  thousand  dollars. 

I  have  given  this  sketch  to  show  some  of  the 
difficulties  of  prospecting,  selling,  or  running  a 
mine.  Yet  mining  is  the  business  of  the  country. 


DENVER  METHODISM.  341 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

DENVER  METHODISM. 

IN  April  I  secured  Sister  Van  Cott  for  a  week, 
and  there  could  not  have  been  a  more  general 
interest  awakened  among  miners  and  citizens 
than  there  was  in  Breckenridge.  Every  meeting 
was  well  attended,  and  deep  interest  was  shown 
from  the  start.  Twenty  joined;  some  were  re- 
claimed and  some  converted,  and  the  little  society 
was  revived.  If  she  could  have  stayed  another 
week,  from  all  appearances,  much  more  good  would 
have  been  accomplished.  She  held  services  twice 
each  day,  and  worked  incessantly. 

Our  parsonage  was  a  log  house,  and  she 
boarded  with  us.  It  was  the  first  log  house  she 
had  ever  stopped  in.  She  picked  off  splinters 
and  sent  them  East  as  curiosities,  and  wrote  that 
she  was  comfortable,  and  the  snow  three  feet 
deep!  She  is  a  noble  worker,  and  did  more  in 
the  time  she  was  there  than  any  preacher  could 
have  done,  everything  considered.  The  people 
gave  her  over  one  hundred  dollars  in  money,  and, 
as  she  liked  specimens  of  ore,  all  that  she  could 
carry,  besides  about  twenty  dollars  in  pure  gold, 
in  dust,  nuggets,  and  wire. 

From  here  I  went  to  Leadville  to  conference. 
Bishop  Wiley  ably  presided.  I  had  not  then 
realized  anything  for  stock,  and  found  it  hard 


342  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

work  to  live,  but  felt  that  I  must  attend  confer- 
ence at  any  rate.  It  was  a  pleasant  one,  and,  to 
my  grateful  surprise,  the  brethren  gave  me  the 
Fifth  Collection.  I  had  promised  one  hundred 
dollars  to  the  Denver  University.  Found  Brother 
John  A.  dough,  the  treasurer,  and  paid  it.  Thus 
the  first  Fifth  Collection  in  the  Colorado  Confer- 
ence went  for  Christian  education.  My  own  ad- 
vantages had  been  limited,  but  I  coveted  the  best 
things  for  my  children,  and  felt  a  profound  interest 
in  our  conference  educational  work. 

I  went  back  to  Summit  County  Circuit,  and, 
having  managed  to  live  through  the  year,  keep  out 
of  debt,  and  be  able  to  work,  I  was  quite  happy, 
at  an  altitude  of  about  ten  thousand  feet.  I  never 
enjoyed  myself  better  any  place. 

The  following  December  we  moved  to  Douglas 
County,  to  our  ranch,  and  tried  to  make  a  living, 
but  found  it  rather  hard  to  do  so  at  my  age — over 
seventy.  I  milked  seven  cows,  and  had  a  garden. 
I  raised  corn,  oats,  and  buckwheat,  and  by  dint 
of  hard  work,  made  a  living  for  two  years.  But 
it  disagreed  with  me.  I  became  such  an  invalid 
that  I  could  not  ride  on  horseback.  Of  course, 
therefore,  I  could  not  make  much  of  a  cow-boy. 
Some  time  in  June  we  had  a  terrific  hail-storm. 
Our  garden  and  corn  looked  nice,  and  all  at  once 
the  storm  came — hail  and  a  little  rain.  My  better- 
half  ran  out  with  old  pans  and  rags  to  cover  the  vines 
and  save  her  garden.  The  lightning  was  fright- 
ful, and  the  cracking  thunder  so  alarmed  the  old 
lady  that  she  ran  into  the  house,  pelted  all  the 


DENVER  METHODISM.  343 

way  with  big  hail-stones.  I  was  doing  my  best 
to  make  the  same  shelter,  but  her  tragic  flight  was 
more  than  I  could  stand.  I  laughed  the  thunder 
down.  Yet  it  was  well  that  she  got  in,  for  the 
hail-stones  were  of  all  sizes,  down  to  the  size  of 
peas,  and  fell  with  sufficient  force  to  split  shingles 
and  break  the  windows.  The  ground  was  covered 
to  the  depth  of  four  inches.  All  our  crop  was  cut 
down  even  with  the  ground.  The  hail-covering 
protected  the  roots  of  the  corn,  which  grew  again, 
so  that  we  had  quite  a  crop  of  corn  and  fodder. 
But  few  can  realize  the  amount  of  water  that  falls 
in  such  a  storm.  After  all  was  clear,  we  heard  a 
noise  up  the  creek,  and  saw  the  hail  and  water 
coming  about  four  feet  up  abreast,  almost  a  per- 
pendicular front,  and  another  wave  on  top  of  that, 
till  it  filled  the  banks  full  seven  feet  high,  and  it 
plowed  the  creek-bed  much  wider  than  it  was 
before. 

Having  passed  two  summers  on  the  ranch,  I 
was  convinced  that  I  was  too  old  or  too  lazy  to 
work  on  a  farm.  I  traded  it  for  a  house  and  lot 
in  Denver,  and  in  November,  1885,  moved  to  the 
new  home,  Glenarm  Street,  No.  712.  It  had  never 
been  my  plan  to  live  in  Denver,  but  Providence 
seemed  to  guide  me  there.  I  could  not  remain 
idle.  So,  as  the  Legislature  was  to  convene  soon, 
the  thought  struck  me  that  I  might  be  elected  to 
one  of  the  chaplaincies.  Hon.  Melvin  Edwards, 
Secretary  of  State,  advised  me  to  seek  the  chap- 
laincy of  the  Senate.  I  had  been  acquainted  with 
Mr.  James  Monahan,  of  Park  County,  for  a  long 


344  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

time,  with  Mr.  Chilcott,  of  Pueblo,  and  Mr.  Irving 
Howbert,  of  Colorado  Springs,  and  Mr.  Wells,  of 
Douglas — all  old  settlers  and  old  members.  I  wrote 
them,  and  received  promises  of  their  support.  I 
got  there  easily  enough.  The  position  was  not 
lucrative;  but  it  gave  me  something  to  do,  and  I 
served  them  as  best  I  could. 

In  the  spring  I  went  to  Breckenridge  to  look 
after  some  interests.  I  found  our  Church  without 
a  preacher,  and  told  them  I  would  stop  and  preach 
for  them  till  the  presiding  elder  would  supply 
them.  It  resulted  in  my  staying  the  year  out. 
The  Church  people  were  few  in  number,  and  hardly 
any  well-to-do.  Such  a  place,  I  am  sorry  to  say, 
has  few  friends  with  the  preachers.  I  tried  to  do 
what  I  could  for  them. 

It  was  two  years  before  I  was  relieved.  I 
preached  at  Breckenridge  twice  on  each  Sunday, 
and  at  Lincoln  about  once  in  two  weeks;  and  on 
week  evenings  at  Montezuma,  Dillon,  Kokomo, 
and  Robinson,  an  average  of  four  times  a  week. 
There  were  three  or  four  hundred  people  at  Breck- 
enridge, and  the  offices  were  well  sprinkled  with 
gamblers  and  saloon-keepers.  There  were  about 
nine  saloons,  and  all  had  card-tables.  They  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  taking  the  organ  out  of  the 
church  to  their  balls.  About  dark  one  night  I 
heard  something  in  the  church,  and  ran  out.  A 
wagon  was  backed  up  to  the  door,  and  the  organ 
was  almost  loaded.  I  objected,  and  was  told  that 
they  had  leave  from  the  officers  of  the  Church. 
But  I  was  firm,  and  they  left  without  it.  I  speak 


DENVER  METHODISM.  345 

of  these  things  to  show  how  little  regard  people 
had  for  sacred  things,  and  what  a  preacher  had  to 
contend  with,  and  the  material  he  had  to  work  on. 
Some  would  say  that  such  should  not  have  the 
gospel  preached  to  them.  But  I  think  they  ought 
to  have  both  love  and  gospel.  I  told  them,  in  an 
exhortation,  that  they  were  hair-hung  and  breath- 
shaken  over  the  gulf  of  eternal  despair.  "How- 
beit,  this  kind  goeth  out  only  by  prayer  and 
fasting.''  O,  may  God  send  men  after  his  own 
heart,  who  can  thunder  his  wrath  as  well  as  dis- 
play the  glories  of  his'  great  salvation !. 

This  last  two-years'  term  in  Summit  County 
was  commenced  in  my  seventy-third  year,  and 
closed  in  my  seventy-sixth.  I  preached  three  and 
a  half  times  for  each  week.  At  this  age  I  felt  it 
a  tax  on  me  too  heavy  to  bear.  But  where  can 
rest  be  found?  For  an  old  man  who  has  always 
kept  going,  to  stop  is  distressing,  and  time  hangs 
heavy  on  his  mind.  Only  the  grace  of  God  and 
the  prospect  of  an  eternal  home  can  keep  him  in  a 
cheerful  mood. 

11  O,  who  would  live  alway,  away  from  his  God  ?" 

I  proceed  to  give  an  account  of  the  religious 
beginnings  of  Denver.  In  the  spring  or  early 
summer  of  1859  came  Rev.  Wm.  H.  Goode,  of  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  sent  out  to  see  and 
report  on  the  condition  and  wants  of  the  Pike's 
Peak  country.  He  brought  with  him  Adriance,  a 
young  preacher  who  took  charge  of  Denver,  and 
was  the  first  appointed  preacher  in  the  country. 


346  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

But  Rev.  George  W.  Fisher,  of  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church,  was  here  in  advance  of  the 
former,  and  preached  the  first  sermon  ever  heard 
in  Denver.  He  was  a  respectable  preacher  and 
loved  by  all  that  knew  him.  Little  did  he  think 
of  the  importance  that  would  be  attached  to  that 
effort,  it  being  the  first  gospel  sound  ever  pro- 
claimed in  our  Centennial  State.  It  was  an  en- 
viable privilege.  Angels  gave  glory  to  God  that 
one  of  his  servants  had  broken  the  silence  of  the 
desert  with  the  sound  of  salvation. 

Although  I  have  preached  in  more  new  towns 
in  Colorado  than  any  man  dead  or  alive,  I  would 
freely  give  all  in  that  line  to  have  had  Brother 
Fisher's  privilege  to  preach  first  in  this  State. 
Brother  Goode  was  a  fine  preacher  and  well  re- 
spected. When  E.  R.  Ames  was  elected  bishop  it 
was  by  only  one  vote  over  him.  He  was  here  a 
short  time,  preaching  in  Denver  and  other  places, 
and  then  returned  to  Kansas.  From  that  time 
there  have  been  regular  services  in  Denver  by  our 
preachers,  including  Sunday-school  work.  The 
first  Sunday-school  was  held  in  Brother  Ritz's 
house.  All  present  but  one  or  two  were  men. 
One  of  the  females  told  me  she  was  then  fourteen 
years  old  and  the  youngest  person  there. 

On  the  eighth  day  of  May,  1860,  Rev.  John 
M.  Chivington,  presiding  elder,  with  his  family, 
came  to  Denver,  and  at  once  began  to  build.  His 
was  the  first  brick  dwelling-house  in  the  place. 
The  house  is  standing  in  West  Denver  now, 
No.  — .  Rev.  A.  P.  Allen,  of  Wisconsin,  took 


DENVER  METHODISM.  347 

charge  of  the  Denver  work;  Rev.  Mr.  Kenny  was 
sent  in  the  spring  of  1861,  and  had  charge  for  one 
year.  At  the  conference  held  in  Kansas  in  1862 
he  was  appointed  for  the  second  year  to  Denver, 
and  loaded  his  wagon  to  start  across  the  Plains, 
apparently  in  good  health,  but  all  at  once  was 
taken  sick  and  died  in  a  few  hours,  ceasing  to 
labor  on  earth,  we  trust  to  rest  in  heaven.  Rev. 
B.  C.  Dennis  was  appointed  presiding  elder  of  the 
Rocky  Mountain  District  at  the  same  conference, 
and  remained  two  years.  He  was  a  good  man 
and  a  fair  preacher,  but  soon  after  left  for  Central 
Illinois  Conference,  and  has  been  a  successful 
preacher,  and  is  still  in  the  work. 

Rev.  O.  A.  Willard  filled  the  Denver  charge  in 
1862.  He  was  appointed  at  the  conference  in 
Kansas  for  the  second  year,  and  served  till  the 
Rocky  Mountain  Conference  was  organized  at 
Denver  in  1863,  at  which  time  he  was  appointed 
presiding  elder  of  Denver  District.  He  was  a 
talented  preacher.  Rev.  George  G.  Betts  supplied 
the  Denver  charge  in  1863,  and  then  went  over  to 
the  Episcopalians.  He  was  followed  by  George 
Richardson.  He  served  Denver  one  year  and 
Georgetown  one  year,  when  he  returned  to  the 
Rock  River  Conference.  Wm.  M.  Smith  took  the 
Denver  charge  after  Richardson,  for  one  year,  and 
was  succeeded  by  B.  T.  Vincent,  who  served  the 
charge  three  years.  As  our  conference  Minutes 
give  the  appointments  of  all  our  preachers  from 
this  time,  we  will  write  chiefly  of  Denver.  Brother 
John  Cree,  a  local  preacher,  who  still  is  with  us, 


348  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

was  the  first  Bible  agent,  and  organized  Bible 
societies  in  different  towns  as  well  as  Denver. 
While  he  has  not  preached  much  of  late,  he  is  a 
good  Church  worker  and  has  been  for  twenty- 
eight  years. 

Of  the  pioneer  Methodists  I  remember  W.  D. 
Pease,  class-leader;  H.  Ritz,  Conrad  Frick,  Mrs. 
Chivington,  Mrs.  Hawkins,  Mrs.  Tynan,  Governor 
Evans  and  family,  Governor  Elbert,  A.  I.  Gill, 
and  Peter  Winne.  Most  of  these  were  official 
members.  There  were  others,  whose  names  I  can 
not  call  to  mind,  as  I  made  only  occasional  visits 
to  Denver. 

Brother  Frick  was  anxious  to  have  a  German 
Methodist  Church  organized,  and  at  last  was  suc- 
cessful. The  prayers  of  our  German  brethren 
have  been  answered.  They  have  a  good  block  of 
ground  in  a  central  part  of  the  city,  with  a  fine 
church-building,  a  good  parsonage,  with  two  other 
houses  to  rent — a  property  that  would  be  a  credit 
to  any  denomination  in  the  city — with  a  pastor, 
and  a  goodly  number  of  members,  and  a  fair  con- 
gregation. We  glory  in  their  prosperity.  Our 
people  at  first  bought  and  fitted  up  a  house  for 
worship  on  the  bank  of  Cherry  Creek,  which  was 
washed  away  in  1864.  Afterwards  they  built  the 
Lawrence  Street  Church ;  and  when  it  was  finished 
it  was  the  largest  church,  as  well  as  the  tallest 
building,  in  Denver.  For  these  times  it  was  a 
great  achievement  for  so  small  a  membership. 
Governor  Evans,  Governor  Elbert,  and  Colonel 
Chivington  were  first  on  the  list  of  donors,  while 


DENVER  METHODISM.  349 

most  of  the  citizens  were  liberal,  and  all  the  mem- 
bers did  what  they  could.  There  was  no  collection 
on  dedication-day.  From  this  time  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Church  took  firm  hold  on  society,  and 
with  her  Sunday-schools  has  been  a  power  for 
good.  Colonel  Chivington  is  an  old  man  now, 
and  has  great  reason  to  be  proud  and  thankful 
for  the  part  he  took  in  planting  Methodism  in 
Denver  and  Colorado.  The  Methodist  Church  is 
also  indebted  to  Ex-Governor  Evans,  for  he  has 
helped  all  the  societies,  and  in  particular  the 
University  of  Denver,  from  first  to  last.  I  would 
like  to  know  how  much  he  has  paid.  But  if  he 
were  asked,  his  modesty  would  not  allow  him  to 
count  it  up ;  but  I  think  his  gifts  may  be  said 
to  be  more  than  forty  thousand  dollars  to  the 
university  alone. 


350  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

MINERAL  WEALTH  OF  COLORADO. 

S  before  stated,  I  came  to  Denver  without  a 
cent.  A  man — Daniel  Andrews,  whom  I  had 
not  seen  for  twenty  years — called  me  by  name.  We 
started  in  life  on  land  within  one-half  mile  of  each 
other.  He  now  owned  the  Chicago  House  in 
West  Denver,  and  told  me  to  make  my  home  with 
him  while  in  the  place.  We  had  a  good  visit. 
The  first  morning,  as  we  were  at  breakfast,  a  man 
came  running  in,  his  eyes  bulged  out  and  his 
breath  almost  gone.  He  said  Dr.  Birdsall  had 
made  a  fire  assay  of  some  quartz  from  Black 
Hawk  that  yielded  such  an  amount  of  gold  to  the 
ton ;  and  that  he  knew  where  he  could  get  two  or 
three  wagon-loads  of  quartz  that  would  make  all 
he  wanted.  I  understood  this  was  the  first  fire 
assay  ever  made  in  Denver,  and  to  hear  them  all 
talk,  a  tender-foot  would  think  that  in  a  short  time 
gold  would  not  be  worth  more  than  pig-iron,  it 
would  be  so  plenty.  But  seven  years1  work  in  the 
lead-mines  in  Wisconsin  had  prepared  me  to  be 
cautious  in  swallowing  such  news.  The  only  lodes  I 
heard  of  were  the  Gregory  and  Bobtail,  near  Black 
Hawk.  At  the  surface  the  mineral  was  decom- 
posed, and  the  poor  men  hauled  the  dirt  with  a 
bob-tailed  ox  (which  gave  the  name  to  the  lode), 
and  washed  it  out  at  the  nearest  water.  This  was 


MINERAL  WEALTH  OF  COLORADO.        351 

1859,  eafly  in  the  spring.  They  are  working  those 
same  lodes  at  the  present  time  at  a  profit.  With 
these  exceptions,  the  mining  was  all  confined  to, 
gulches  and  placers. 

The  first  gold  discovered  was  at  Russellville, 
on  Cherry  Creek,  thirty-five  miles  from  Denver. 
Some  parties  camping  on  Cherry  Creek,  under 
some  cottonwood  trees,  where  West  Denver  now 
stands,  panned  gold  out  of  the  sand  in  the  creek. 
That  was  a  favorite  resting-place,  and  was  the 
commencement  of  all  that  is  called  Denver  City. 
Russell  and  Spring  Gulches  were  soon  struck,  near 
Black  Hawk  and  Central  City,  as  well  as  the  Idaho 
branch  of  Clear  Creek,  Georgia  Gulch,  French  and 
Gold  Run  over  the  range,  Tarryall,  Fair  Play  and 
California  Gulch,  and  many  others.  It  seemed 
like  a  providence  that  these  gulches  were  dis- 
covered first,  as  there  were  no  tools  but  picks  and 
shovels  brought  at  first  across  the  six  hundred 
miles  of  desert.  By  the  close  of  1862,  most  of  the 
richest  pay  was  taken  out;  but  some  of  the  gulches 
and  placers  are  worked  yet,  and  with  profit  after 
the  lapse  of  nearly  thirty  years. 

Lodes  were  prospected  for,  and  many  were 
found.  But  the  miners'  "toms"  and  sluice-boxes 
had  to  be  laid  aside  for  stamp-mills  suitable  to 
the  crushing  of  quartz.  Where  the  ore  was  rich, 
the  mills  paid  well,  notwithstanding  there  were 
but  few  men  who  knew  much  about  the  business. 
Thousands  of  dollars  were  spent  in  trying  pro- 
cesses of  different  kinds.  The  ore  was  often  re- 
fractory, and  no  effort  was  made  to  save  anything 


352  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

but  the  gold,  until  Professor  N.  P.  Hill  made  a 
visit  to  Colorado.  He  was  the  son  of  a  farmer, 
.but  had  worked  his  way  through  college,  and  be- 
came professor.  He  came  to  examine  and  report  on 
the  Gilpin  Grant  in  San  Luis  Valley.  Not  far  from 
the  same  time,  I  had  been  requested  to  report  on 
the  same  grant.  How  near  our  reports  agreed,  I 
am  not  able  to  say,  but  mine  was  to  the  effect 
that  the  money  in  it  was  a  long  way  in  the  future. 
Somewhat  behind  the  times,  as  usual  with  me.  But 
from  my  acquaintance  with  Governor  Gilpin's  early 
ideas  of  our  mines,  as  well  as  of  the  great  resources 
of  Colorado,  I  suspect  that  he  put  the  idea  of  ex- 
amining the  Gilpin  County  mines  into  Professor 
Hill's  head.  He  was  favorably  impressed.  Many 
of  us  thought  Governor  Gilpin  a  fanatic.  If  the 
word  "  crank  "  had  been  in  use  at  that  time,  we 
would  have  called  him  a  crank.  I  heard  him  say 
in  a  speech  once,  that  pur  Rockies  were  ribbed 
with  gold,  and  that  it  would  be  found  in  mass  and 
position.  Of  course  we  made  allowance,  as  an 
extemporaneous  speaker  is  hardly  accountable  for 
many  of  his  expressions.  But  after  twenty-five 
years  of  progress  in  Colorado,  we  are  led  to  be- 
lieve that  there  was  much  more  truth  than  fiction 
in  his  utterances.  The  governor  still  lives  to  see 
the  wonderful  production  of  the  mines,  and  the 
many  agricultural  advancements  of  Colorado. 

We  must  say  that  Colorado  is  greatly  indebted 
to  Professor  N.  P.  Hill.  He  was  the  first  man 
who  conceived  the  possibility  of  working  our  re- 
fractory ores  to  profit.  His  first  move  was  in  the 


MINERAL  WEALTH  OF  COLORADO.       353 

right  direction,  viz. :  to  go  to  Wales  and  see  the 
Swansea  works,  get  all  the  information  he  could, 
and  secure  men  who  were  practical  workmen  in 
the  separation  of  the  refractory  ores.  By  this 
means,  silver,  copper,  and  lead  at  least  were  saved. 
In  1867  he  organized  the  Boston  and  Colorado 
Smelting  Company,  with,  it  is  said,  a  cash  capital 
of  two  hundred  and  seventy-five  thousand  dollars. 
He  operated  first  at  Black  Hawk  for  several  years, 
and  next  at  Alma,  Park  County.  The  results 
must  have  been  great,  as  he  conceived  the  advan- 
tage of  moving  to  Denver,  where  at  Argo  he  has 
been  operating  for  about  ten  years.  The  works 
will  astonish  almost  any  one,  their  capacity  is  so 
immense.  I  saw  a  report,  said  to  have  come  from 
their  books,  up  to  1879,  which  shows  over  seven- 
teen millions  of  the  precious  metals. 

In  1887  the  Argo  works  reported  over  three 
millions;  Omaha  and  Grant's  works  over  five 
millions  from  Colorado  ores.  The  most  promi- 
nent of  our  smelters  are  the  Holden  Works,  the 
Pueblo  Smelting  and  Refining  Works,  the  Colo- 
rado Smelting  Company  at  Pueblo,  the  Arkansas 
Valley  Smelter,  the  Harrison  Reduction  Works, 
American  Smelting  Company,  and  the  Manville 
Smelting  Works,  Leadville. 

After  deducting  ores  from  other  States  and 
Territories  that  were  treated  at  the  different  works 
in  Colorado,  the  sum  of  over  twenty-four  millions 
is  left  for  the  year  1887.  This  shows  only  the 
gold,  silver,  lead,  and  copper.  In  1886  there  was 
reported  to  be  more,  but  the  reduction  in  the  price 

30 


354  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

of  silver  probably  accounts  for  the  greater  part  of 
the  shrinkage. 

Our  mines  are  certainly  progressing  in  general. 
Stamp-mills  are  numerous.  Gold  has  been  dis- 
covered from  the  north  line  of  Colorado  to  the 
south,  and  its  development  is  only  begun  and  on 
the  surface,  as  the  country  has  never — except  in 
a  few  camps — been  proved  to  any  great  depth. 
Our  mines  are  only  in  their  infancy.  After  ages 
are  past,  it  will  be  said  the  half  has  never  been 
told.  In  1 86 1 1  first  crossed  the  State  of  Colorado. 
I  believed  even  then  that  the  leads  were  worth 
millions  more  than  the  gulches  and  placers  that 
were  then  being  worked. 

Our  coal-mines  have  opened  more  or  less  ores 
in  the  whole  western  side  of  Colorado.  The  veins 
will  average  seven  feet  in  thickness,  and  are  abun- 
dant. The  mines  near  Canon  City  are  proved  to 
be  in  quantity  and  quality  the  best  in  the  State. 
Boulder  County  also  ranks  high.  So  does  Las 
Animas  County ;  and  a  thousand  other  places  on 
the  east  side  as  well  as  the  west  side  of  the  Range. 
Gunnison,  and  Pitkin  Counties,  have  rich  deposits. 
There  is  enough  to  supply  all  the  Plains,  with 
Kansas  thrown  in. 

Next  come  our  oil  interests.  Florence,  on  the 
Arkansas  River,  eight  miles  below  Canon  City,  is 
the  present  center.  There  the  crude  material  is 
produced  and  refined  to  a  considerable  extent.  I 
have  always  believed  that  oil  was  plenty  in  Colo- 
rado. Mr.  Cassady,  in  early  times,  struck  oil  near 
the  above  place,  and  it  was  used  among  us.  I 


MINERAL  WEALTH  OF  COLORADO.       355 

came  around  on  my  circuit,  and  took  up  a  quarter 
section  adjoining  his  well,  and  had  a  cabin  built 
for  the  sum  of  fifty  dollars,  to  hold  my  claim. 
But  before  I  could  prove  up,  I  was  sent  as  a  mis- 
sionary to  New  Mexico.  That  ended  my  oil 
speculation;  but  though  it  is  getting  late  in  my 
day,  I  may  strike  oil  yet!  I  have  no  doubt  but 
many  a  flow  of  oil  will  be  struck  near  to  Denver, 
as  well  as  in  many  other  sections  of  the  State. 

Iron  of  the  best  quality  is  found  in  many  parts, 
but  has  been  more  fully  developed  in  the  southern 
part  of  the  State.  From  my  personal  observations 
in  twenty-six  years  of  travel,  mostly  in  the  mount- 
ains, ranging  from  Wyoming  to  old  Mexico,  I  am 
prepared  to  believe  there  is  no  danger  of  exhausting 
the  supply.  The  Bessemer  iron  and  steel  works  at 
Pueblo — a  mammoth  concern — we  think,  is  destined 
to  be  one  of  the  great  wealth-producers  of  Colo- 
rado, as  it  is  located  in  the  very  heart  of  our  iron 
region,  and  produces  the  best  iron  and  steel  known 
in  our  country,  east  or  west. 

Our  mountains  abound  with  hot  springs,  the 
waters  being  heated  by  the  chemical  action  at- 
tendant upon  the  decomposition  of  minerals,  and 
thus  having  imparted  .to*  them  many  curative 
properties. 

We  also  believe  that  natural  gas  will  be  found 
in  abundance  for  all  purposes  to  which  it  can  be 
advantageously  applied.  But  if  it  is  not  found  in 
the  depths  of  the  earth,  we  have  the  consolation 
to  know  that  there  is  no  lack  of  it  among  our  in- 
habitants on  the  surface.  The  first  hot  spring 


356  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

that  excited  my  interest  was  on  Chalk  Creek, 
about  six  miles  west  of  the  Arkansas  River,  in 
Lake  County.  It  was  so  hot  that  it  would  almost 
boil  an  egg. 

It  was  here  I  did  the  greatest  climbing  of  my 
life  ;  and  it  was  for  my  life,  too.  After  a  hard 
day's  travel,  in  company  with  Brother  Gilland,  a 
local  preacher,  we  undertook  to  climb  a  steep 
mountain,  some  distance  up  Chalk  Creek.  I  was 
in  advance  less  than  a  hundred  feet,  when  I  dis- 
covered that  my  position  was  dangerous.  I  had 
carefully  worked  my  way  until  it  was  impossible 
to  get  back.  So  I  said:  ''Brother  Gilland,  you 
go  back ;  I  can 't.  To  fall  from  here  would  be 
certain  death.  But  I  see  a  way  that  I  can  climb 
some  further ;  and,  if  it  is  possible  to  get  over  this 
point  of  rocks,  I  can  get  up  and  find  my  way  down 
some  other  place."  If  I  looked  back,  my  toes 
would  tingle.  It  was  policy  to  look  up  and  go 
up.  Through  the  goodness  of  God,  I  reached  a 
place  where  I  could  stand  safely.  But  we  could 
not  hear  each  other,  as  there  was  a  gorge,  filled 
with  rocks  and  timbers,  and  with  rushing  and 
foaming  water  from  the  melting  snow  above.  My 
comrade  went  back  and  got  my  horse,  and,  with 
his  tones  of  distress,  tried  to  make  me  hear.  But 
he  waited  till  evening  in  vain,  and  then  left  for 
his  home  to  get  help.  He  got  in  just  before  sun- 
set, as  it  was  some  six  miles;  but  I  got  in  less 
than  an  hour  after,  and  saved  him  from  gathering 
help  to  go  in  search  of  me.  He  supposed  I  was 
dead  or  lost. 


MINERAL  WEALTH  OF  COLORADO.       357 

Suffice  it  to  say,  I  came  down  at  what  is  now 
called  Haywood  Springs.  As  it  was  not  more 
than  three  rods  till  the  hot  water  emptied  into 
Chalk  Creek,  which  was  cold  as  snow  could  make 
it,  and  as  I  was  tired,  and  wanted  a  rest  after  my 
hard  day's  walk,  with  nothing  to  eat,  I  concluded 
to  take  a  bath,  where  the  mingling  of  the  waters 
would  give  the  right  temperature.  I  went  in  close 
to  the  creek,  supposing  the  creek  water  had  cooled 
the  hot  water,  but  to  my  surprise  the  two  currents 
flowed  side  by  side,  the  division  being  not  more 
than  the  thickness  of  a  knife-blade.  While  the  hot 
water  did  not  quite  blister,  the  cold  water  did  not 
quite  freeze.  I  washed  a  little,  but  soon  got  out, 
and  if  I  had  been  asked  which  I  had  had,  a  hot 
or  a  cold  bath,  it  would  have  been  proper  to  an- 
swer, both.  There  was  not  a  human  being  within 
five  miles  of  me,  and  I  had  all  the  fun  to  myself. 
I  suppose  this  was  the  first  attempt  to  bathe  in 
those  famous  springs. 

In  a  few  days  I  located  a  quarter  section,  in- 
cluding the  springs  for  medicinal  purposes,  raised  a 
log  house,  and  thought  to  improve  the  property ; 
but,  as  was  the  case  with  my  oil  venture,  my  be- 
ing sent  to  New  Mexico  interfered.  The  land 
was  not  surveyed,  and  there  was  no  way  to  hold 
it  but  by  possession.  I  left  it,  hoping  that  no  one 
would  jump  it;  but  an  old  Georgia  doctor  took  it. 
At  considerable  cost,  I  afterwards  got  him  off.  At 
the  same  New  Mexico  move,  I  claimed  half  the 
Hayden  Ranch,  near  Twin  Lakes,  which  I  gave 
away.  Either  would  be  a  fortune  now;  but 


358  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

preaching  and  money-making  do  not  work  well 
together. 

There  are  many  hot  springs  in  the  mountains. 
The  Poncha  are  valuable.  I  visited  several  in  San 
Luis  Valley;  and  the  Calienta  and  the  Pagosa 
Springs  are  in  New  Mexico.  The  latter  are  won- 
derful— boiling  up  hot  enough  to  cook  anything. 
The  Glenwood  Springs,  in  Garfield  County,  no 
doubt  will  be  a  great  resort,  as  they  have  the  Mid- 
land Railroad,  as  well  as  the  Rio  Grande,  interested 
in  their  development. 

In  the  mountains  quantities  of  hay  and  oats  are 
raised  in  some  places,  and  potatoes,  turnips,  and 
other  vegetables. 

Take  it  altogether,  the  mountains  are  rich  be- 
yond all  that  we  ever  thought  of.  And  why 
are  they  not  as  valuable  to  our  cities  as  the  At- 
lantic is  to  Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  New  York,  or 
Boston?  Is  there  any  good  reason  why  the  cities 
of  the  Plains  should  not  become,  in  another  cen- 
tury, as  great  as  any  in  the  United  States? 

The  State  of  Colorado  is  about  equally  divided 
between  mountains  and  plains.  The  latter  were 
thought  our  desert,  but  now  good  crops,  with  and 
without  irrigation,  are  being  raised,  and  the  land 
taken  by  pre-emption.  Soon  all  will  be  settled 
up — a  section,  say  three  hundred  miles  long  by 
two  hundred  wide. 

A  word,  here,  about  our  towns.  While  there 
will  be  many  fine  towns  in  the  valleys  and  mount- 
ains, I  will  speak  only  of  the  leading  places,  that 
seem  to  vie  with  each  other  in  growth  and  pros- 


MINERAL  WEALTH  OF  COLORADO.          359 

perity.  I  first  saw  Trinidad  in  the  spring  of  1865. 
It  consisted  of  a  few  small  houses ;  and  its  citizens, 
excepting  two  Americans,  were  Mexicans.  It  has 
the  possibilities  of  a  city — mines  adjacent  of  a  su- 
perior quality,  good  agricultural  country  to  the 
east  and  south,  and  its  situation  such  as  makes  it 
the  entrance  to  New  Mexico.  All  it  wants  in  order 
to  make  a  great  town  of  itself,  are  men  with  push. 
Pueblo,  the  second  place  in  population  in  Colo- 
rado, has  as  great  advantages  naturally  as  any  place 
in  our  State.  It  is  connected  by  rail  with  the  best 
gold  and  silver  mines,  and  is  nearer  to  the  best 
coal  and  oil.  On  the  east  is  the  valley  of  the  Ar- 
kansas, which  can  not  be  surpassed.  It  ought  to 
have  more  smelters;  then,  with  its  iron-works,  it 
would  grow  into  a  city  of  wonderful  wealth 
and  numbers. 

Colorado  Springs,  also,  has  good  advantages; 
especially  since  the  Midland  brings  the  mines  to 
it,  and  the  Rock  Island  opens  a  direct  line  to  the 
East.  Its  site  is  not  surpassed,  and  is  nearer  to 
the  finest  scenery  than  any  other  place  in  the 
country— the  Garden  of  the  Gods,  Pike's  Peak, 
and  the  Mineral  Springs  at  Manitou,  only  five 
miles  away,  and  Colorado  City,  connecting  the  two 
in  a  continuous  town.  They,  too,  need  smelting 
works  and  manufactures ;  but  have  every  prospect 
of  becoming  one  of  the  liveliest  and  most  beauti- 
ful places  in  the  State. 

We  come  now  to  Denver,  the  capital.  The 
question  has  often  been  asked,  why  Denver  came 
to  the  front  and  took  the  lead.  It  had  the  first 


360  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

printing-press.  William  N.  Byers  &  Co.  reached 
Denver  April  21,  1859.  The  first  freighters  were 
tired,  stopped,  and  made  a  trading-post.  About 
this  time,  Thomas  Pollock  and  Uncle  Dick  Hooton 
built  the  first  frame  houses  in  West  Denver,  as  it 
is  now  called.  But  A.  H.  Barker,  Esq.,  tells  me 
that  he  built  the  first  log  cabin  or  house  in  Den- 
ver in  1858.  Of  course  there  were  many  tents. 
There  seems  to  have  been  no  wisdom  in  the  se- 
lecting of  a  site  for  a  large  city,  or  it  never  would 
have  been  on  both  sides  of  Cherry  Creek,  as  there 
was  land  enough  on  either  side ;  but  there  is  room 
enough  to  make  a  Chicago  as  it  is.  Of  the  peo- 
ple who  came,  more  stayed  in  Denver  than  in  any 
other  place.  It  was  well  advertised  in  the  Rocky 
Mountain  News.  Everything  was  said  that  could 
be  said  for  Denver  first,  and  after  that  the  mining 
and  agricultural  interests  were  kept  before  the 
public.  Many  grew  home-sick  when  they  found 
that  they  could  not  pick  up  the  gold,  and  left, 
cursing  the  whole  Pike's  Peak  country,  and  par- 
ticularly the  Rocky  Mountain  News  for  falsehood. 
Their  children  are  now  returning,  time  having 
proven  that  the  half  had  not  been  told.  We  feel 
it  due  to  the  News  to  say  that  we  have  not  had  so 
good  and  reliable  a  paper,  take  it  every  way,  as 
that  paper  was  while  Messrs.  Byers  and  Dailey 
conducted  it.  At  first  there  were  no  telegraph 
lines,  but  Mr.  Dailey  would  ride  his  pony  and  meet 
the  stage  some  twelve  miles  out,  get  the  news, 
and  come  back  ahead  of  the  stage,  so  that  the 
readers  of  the  paper  could  have  it.  The  news 


MINERAL  WEALTH  OF  COLORADO.          361 

was  a  week  coming,  but  was  just  as  fresh  to  the 
Denverites  as  though  it  had  been  streaked  in 
by  lightning. 

One  thing  I  have  noticed — every  traveler  has 
expressed  surprise  to  see  so  large  and  beautiful  a 
town.  I  have  thought  the  long  journey  across  the 
Plains  prepared  him  to  appreciate  the  sight. 
When  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  was  first  talked 
of,  it  was  invited  to  come  this  way,  but,  refusing, 
left  Denver  a  hundred  miles  from  its  line.  It  was 
well  that  Denver  had  one  man  of  foresight,  en- 
ergy, and  financial  ability,  with  a  will  to  build  a 
railroad  from  Cheyenne  to  Denver.  John  Evans, 
governor  of  Colorado,  undertook  the  task,  and 
aided  by  other  enterprising  citizens,  in  1870,  con- 
nected Denver  by  rail  with  the  cities  of  the  United 
States.  That  was  Denver's  first  great  day.  Arap- 
ahoe  County  voted  bonds  with  a  liberal  hand, 
and  the  governor  was  considered  a  great  bene- 
factor. Yet  there  were  some  who  abused  him, 
and  called  him  everything  but  a  gentleman,  be- 
cause he  made  money  in  building  the  road.  This 
being  the  terminus  of  the  first  iron  track,  gave 
Denver  a  boom  that  set  it  beyond  the  reach  of 
competing  points. 

But  what  would  Denver  be  with  her  many 
railroads,  if  it  were  not  for  the  towering  mount- 
ains close  in  her  front,  stored  with  the  richest 
treasures  that  the  great  Creator  ever  bestowed  on 
any  part  of  our  nation?  And  all  that  the  towns 
and  cities,  from  Greeley  to  Trinidad,  have  to  do, 

when  they  get  hard  up,  is  to  look  to  the  mountains, 

31 


362  SNOW-SHOE  ITINERANT. 

for  there  the  treasures  are  abundant  and  un- 
failing. Colorado,  from  north  to  south,  from  east 
to  west,  has  seen  her  darkest  days,  and  the  Barren 
Plains  are  beginning  to  rejoice  and  blossom  as 
the  rose. 


*    !il    .  '         ':*:'/'*'    '  ': 


